
LIBRARY OF CONGRESS. 



lipqt ©ttpjriglji lfxi + 

UNITED STATES OF AMERICA. 






DOROTHY HANCOCK'S RECEPTION. 



YOUNG FOLKS' 



History of Boston. 



BY 



HEZEKIAH BUTTERWORTH, 

AUTHOR OF "ZIGZAG JOURNEYS IN EUROPE," "ZIGZAG JOURNEYS IN 

CLASSIC LANDS," "ZIGZAG JOURNEYS IN THE ORIENT," 

" YOUNG FOLKS' HISTORY OF AMERICA," EfC. 



FULLY ILLUSTRATED. 






OC . 

- 



BOSTON: 
PUBLISHED BY ESTES AND LAURIAT, 

301-305 Washington Street. 
I88-I. 



Copyright, 1881, 
By Estes and Lauriat. 



University Press: 
John Wilson and Son, Cambridge. 

4 



PREFACE. 



Some ten years ago the writer of this volume came to 
Boston, a stranger, for the purpose of reading in the Public 
Library and obtaining work as a journalist. Becoming 
deeply interested in works of local history, especially in 
those of Drake, and being unacquainted with society, he 
resolved to visit all the old historic places in and about 
Boston, in hours needed for exercise, and to study their 
associations. 

About a year ago the publishers asked him to prepare 
a young people's history of Boston, and to seek to make 
it popular and entertaining, after the methods of the " Zig- 
zag " books. It was a pleasure to attempt this work, as 
it revived the memories of the solitary walks ten years ago, 
and brought into use the material then collected. 

This book does not seek to follow the common historic 
methods, but to be as entertaining as possible while impart- 
ing information. The elaborate works of Drake, ShurtlefT, 
Quincy, and the noble "Memorial History" fully cover 
the subject for the scholar and the adult reader of means 
and leisure, but hardly meet the wants of popular reading 



vi Preface. 

and the young. Hence stories, incidents, poems, and pic- 
tures have been freely used. We hope that the reading of 
this volume may at least create an interest for the study 
of the larger works we have named, and tend to develop 
that honest pride in our local history which is essential to 
the best citizenship. 

28 Worcester Street. 



CONTENTS. 



CHAPTER PAGE 

I. Wherein is given some Account of St. Botolph 15 
II. Wherein is given some Account of St. Bo- 

tolph's Church in Lincolnshire 31 

III. Wherein is given an Account of William Black- 

stone, a Recluse, who was the First Seitler 

of Boston 39 

IV. Wherein is contained the Story of Lady Ar- 

bella Johnson 47 

V. Wherein are related some Incidents of the 
Life of Governor John Winthrop, the 

Founder of Boston 57 

VI. Wherein is given some Account of Sir Henry 
Vane, Anne Hutchinson, and those Religious 
Persecutions out of which grew Liberty of 

Conscience and Opinion 85 

VII. Wherein are related some Stories of a Ner- 
vous Disease called Witchcraft 109 

VIII. Wherein is shown how the Colony became a 

Province 137 

IX. Wherein are told some Stories of Old Colony 

Times 151 

X. Wherein is given some Account of the Times 
of the Eleven Royal Governors and of the 
Old Province House 169 



Vlll 



Contents. 



CHAPTER 

XI. 



XII. 
XIII. 

XIV. 
XV. 



XVI. 

XVII. 

XVIII. 

XIX. 

XX. 

XXI. 

XXII. 

XXIII. 

XXIV. 



The Times of the Eleven Royal Governors 

and of the old province house, continued . 1 89 

The Eve of Revolution 205 

Bunker Hill 243 

The Siege of Boston 253 

The Story of Hollis Street Meeting -House 
and Curious Old Mather Byles, the Roy- 
alist 283 

Freedom and Prosperity 293 

The Antislavery Struggle 309 

The Boston of To-day 3 2 3 

The Pleasure Resorts and the Beautiful Sub- 
urbs of Boston 349 

The Old Boston Schools 3 6 9 

The Associations of Boston Poetry 389 

Associations of Whittier's Poetry 421 

The Concord Authors and the Associations 

of their Works 439 

Mount Auburn 455 

Index 475 



LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS. 



PAGE 

Dorothy Hancock's Reception Frontispiece 

Monks at Study 16 

Lincoln Cathedral 17 

Preaching the Gospel to the Saxons 21 

Ruins of an Ancient Abbey 25 

A Saxon Priest destroying an Idol 27 

St. Botolph's Church 33 

Charles 1 35 

Cotton Memorial Chapel 36 

William Blackstone's House 39 

Trimountain 4° 

On the Banks of the Charles 41 

Sailing from England 48 

Sir Richard Saltonstall 49 

The First King's Chapel 51 

Winthrop's Fleet in Boston Harbor 53 

John Winthrop 59 

Winthrop and Dudley 63 

First Meeting-House 65 

Winthrop fording a Stream 67 

Revels at Merry-Mount 68 

Miles Standish discovers the Revellers at Merry-Mount ... 69 

Endicott cutting down Morton's May-pole 73 

A Lost Settler found 77 

Indians returning a Lost Child 80 

The Harbor of Boston 81 

Henry Vane 86 

Burial of the King 88 

Execution of Charles 1 89 



x List of Illustrations. 

PAGE 

Oliver Cromwell 91 

Roger Williams appealing to the Indians 93 

Cutting out the Red Cross 95 

The Stocks 96 

John Endicott 97 

The Pillory 99 

Whipping Quakers at the Cart's Tail in Boston 101 

Old Elm and Quakers' Graves 105 

Witches 109 

Witchcraft at Salem Village 113 

Cotton Mather 117 

Martha Corey and her Persecutors 121 

The Old Elm 125 

A False Alarm 129 

Increase Mather 133 

Governor Leverett 138 

The Old Feather Store 139 

Charles II 141 

Sir Edmund Andros 143 

Governor Andros a Prisoner 147 

Nix's Mate 152 

Massacre at Bloody Brook 153 

Charles chasing the Moth 157 

Old-time Courtesies ' 163 

Elder Brewster's Chair 166 

Queen Anne 171 

The Province House 175 

Franklin 178 

King's Chapel, Tremont Street 179 

George 1 183 

Franklin's Birthplace 185 

Faneuil Hall 191 

The Old South Church 193 

Revocation of the Edict of Nantes 195 

The Frankland House 198 

The Liberty Tree 200 

Map of New England about 1700 201 

Bostonians reading the Stamp Act 207 

The Hancock House 210 

Adams opposing the Stamp Act from the Old State House . . 211 



List of Illustrations. xi 

PAGE 

Destruction of the Tea 217 

Provincials rallying at Concord 221 

Conflict at the North Bridge 223 

Section of Bonner's Map, 1722 227 

John Hancock 231 

Christ Church 235 

From Bonner's Map, 1722 237 

Plan of the Battle of Bunker Hill 245 

The Battle of Bunker Hill 249 

The Washington Elm 254 

View from Beacon Hill, Boston 255 

The Holmes House 258 

Plan of the Investment of Boston 259 

Pine -Tree Flag 262 

Washington's Treasure-chest 263 

George III 269 

Plan of the Town of Boston, 1775 273 

Boston with its Environs, 1775-76 277 

The Old Hollis Street Church 283 

From Bonner's Map, 1722 285 

Mather Byles 288 

Lafayette 297 

Daniel Webster 300 

Washington Irving 304 

Mr. Garrison in the Hands of the Mob 311 

Theodore Parker 314 

First Subscriptions for Soldiers' Families 315 

Fort Sumter 3*7 

Massachusetts Sixth in Baltimore 318 

State House 3 2 5 

Corner of Washington and Milk Streets, before the Great Fire . 328 

" Summer Street a Wall of Flame " 3 2 9 

" The Old South stands " 333 

Henry Wilson 335 

Soldiers and Sailors' Monument 33^ 

Map of Boston in 1838 337 

Skeleton of Mammoth 343 

Statue of Edward Everett 35 1 

Northmen on an Expedition 357 

The French King troubled at the Approach of the Northmen . 363 



xii List of Illustrations. 

PAGE 

The Old Pedagogue 370 

Ear Pincers 371 

John Lovell 377 

Charles K. Dillaway 379 

First Latin School, School Lane 380 

The English High and Latin School 381 

Benjamin Franklin 391 

Charles Sprague 392 

The " Old Brick " Church 395 

" Elmwood," the Home of Lowell 407 

James Russell Lowell 409 

Oliver Wendell Holmes 411 

John G. Whittier 421 

The Carwitham View of Boston, about 1730 425 

An Old-time Husking Frolic 433 

Ralph Waldo Emerson 439 

Nathaniel Hawthorne 442 

The Old Manse 443 

Thoreau's Hut 444 

Margaret Fuller (Countess Ossoli) 449 

Ossoli Memorial 456 

Entrance to Mt. Auburn Cemetery 457 

Spurzheim Monument 459 

Bronze Statue of Dr. Nathaniel Bowditch 460 

The Chapel 461 

The Story Statue 462 

Charles Sumner's Sarcophagus 465 

Louis Agassiz 467 

The Agassiz Boulder 468 

The Tower 470 

Jared Sparks 47 1 



" Kind hearts are more than coronets, 

And simple faith than Norman blood." 

Tennyson. 



YOUNG FOLKS' 
HISTORY OF BOSTON. 



CHAPTER I. 

WHEREIN IS GIVEN SOME ACCOUNT OF ST. BOTOLPH. 

If you will look at the map of England, you will see on 
the right hand the great maritime county of Lincolnshire. 
Its shores are washed by the North Sea. The coast from 
the river Humber to the Wash is low, and embankments are 
built as a protection against the stormy tides. 

It is a district of wonderful fertility, bountiful gardens, 
luxuriant meadows, and rich grazing-lands, whereon are seen 
the finest horses and cattle of England. The people here 
from the time of the Norman Conquest have been remarkable 
for their intelligence and heroic and independent spirit. 
The Wesleys lived here, and most of the leaders of the 
Massachusetts Bay Colony came from this place. 

The capitol of the county is Lincoln, famous for its beau- 
tiful cathedral, which has three great towers, one of which is 
three hundred feet high. The celebrated old bell, "Tom 
of Lincoln," once rang sweetly from one of the towers. 

The coast is very dangerous, and in early times a good 
abbot who befriended people in peril became a patron saint. 



i6 



Young Folks History of Boston. 



This benefactor was St. Botolph. He was the good 
abbot of Ikanho, 1 and became very favorably known for 
his pious and benevolent deeds about the year 655. 

The name Botolph or Botulph is made up of two Saxon 
words, boat and ulph, meaning boat help, an inspiring sound 




MONKS AT STUDY. 

to storm-tossed mariners. One of the churches in Alders- 
gate, London, was dedicated to this saint, also a church at 
Colchester, the ruins of which are now seen. 

After a life of beneficence in the rude times when Chris- 
tianity was being established in England, the " holy man " 

1 Ancient name of Boston. 




LINCOLN CATHEDRAL. 



655- St. Botolph. 19 

died, and his remains were entombed in St. Edmund's 
Monastery, Bury. 

The abbot was so good in his life that it was supposed 
that his remains would be of equally good influence after he 
was entombed. 

We have a curious story to tell you about this founder of 
Old Boston, whose piety and charity gave the name to our 
city. 

There were dry seasons at Bury. The wells became low, 
the lowing of cattle for water was heard in the pastures, the 
gardens withered, the fields turned brown. At these dry 
seasons the people called upon the monks to do something 
to bring rain. 

What could the poor monks do ? 

The monks of St. Edmund's Monastery remembered the 
sanctity of St. Botolph. They resolved to take his coffin 
from the tomb and carry it about the streets in a procession, 
and see if that would not bring rain. 

The pious experiment was entirely successful : rain came, 
and so the saint was even more highly esteemed than before 
his decease, and whenever it began to be a little dry the 
monks of Bury in early times would carry about the streets, 
in a long, dark procession, the coffin of good St. Botolph. 

There must have been occasions when the clouds did not 
promptly respond to the attractions of the good saint's bones, 
and possibly in some such way the relics lost credit. We 
cannot tell. St. Botolph has been allowed to rest in peace 
for a thousand years. Whatever we may think now of the 
influence of the ceremony in bringing rain, we cannot but 
respect the faith in God and in the power of a pious and 
benevolent character that underlay the pleasant fancy, for it 
was this confidence that made men morally strong in Saxon 
times, and helped our ancestors to be what they were in a 
more enlightened age. 



20 Young Folks History of Boston. 

"The History and Antiquities of Boston" (England), by 
Pishey Thompson, published in 1856, a copy of which may 
be found in Harvard College Library, contains long extracts 
from the Chronicles of John of Tynemouth, in which are 
given many beautiful incidents of the life of St. Botolph. 
John of Tynemouth was rector of St. Botolph's Church, 
Boston, in 15 18. 

Mr. Thompson, in his History of Boston, thus speaks of 
the saint : — 

" St. Botulph and his brother, St. Adulph, flourished about 
the middle of the seventh century. They were of noble 
family, and were sent very young into Belgic France, where, 
according to the testimony of Bede, our ancestors in those 
days usually sent their children to be educated. The broth- 
ers Botulph and Adulph, having been initiated in the disci- 
pline and austerity of a monastic life, took the religious habit, 
and became famous for their learning, zeal, and spiritual 
labors. The fame of St. Adulph having reached the French 
king, he was by that monarch exalted to the government of 
the church of Maestricht in Belgium, the duties of which 
station he filled with such ability as to attract the most 
unqualified eulogies of the writers of his time." 

The Chronicles of John of Tynemouth thus continue the 
story : — 

" But the blessed father Botulph was disposed to return to 
Britain. Now there were in the same monastery in which he 
was staying two sisters of Ethelmund, King of the East 
Angles (having been sent thither for the sake of the monastic 
discipline), who, understanding that the blessed man was 
wishing to return to his own country, impose upon him cer- 
tain commands to be carried to the king, their brother. 
Having passed over the sea, he is honorably entertained by 
the king, who, having heard the pious petitions of his own 
sisters that he should grant Botulph a piece of ground to 




PREACHING THE GOSPEL TO THE SAXON'S. 



68o. 5/. Botolph. 23 

build a monastery for the love of the divine reward, he gave 
his kind consent. . . . The venerable father chose a certain 
uncultivated place, deserted by man, called Ykanho." 

The story is a charming one, and goes on with an inno- 
cence truly Herodotean : — 

" Now that region was as much forsaken by man as it was 
possessed by demons, whose fantastic illusion by the coming 
of the holy man was to be immediately put to flight, and the 
pious conversation of the faithful substituted in its place, so 
that where up to that time the deceit of the devil had 
abounded, the grace of our beneficent founder should more 
abound. Upon the entry, therefore, of the blessed Botulph, 
the blackest smoke arises, and the enemy, knowing that his 
own flight was at hand, cries out, with horrid clamor, saying : 
' This place which we have inhabited for a long time we 
thought to inhabit for ever. Why, O Botulph, most cruel 
stranger, dost thou try to drive us from these seats? In 
nothing have we offended you, in nothing have we disturbed 
your right, what do you seek in our expulsion? What do 
you wish to establish in this region of ours? After being 
driven out of every corner in the world, do you expel us 
wretched beings even out of this solitude ? ' " 

But the blessed St. Botolph was not to be entreated by 
evil spirits. He made the sign of the cross, and addressed 
them heroically, and put them all to flight, — a scene worthy 
of a painter. 

The Chronicles give a series of charming incidents illustrat- 
ing the humility of the saint, his beautiful sympathies, and 
harmony of character. 

Say the Chronicles, in regard to the time of his decease : — 

" At last, when God called, he was delivered from the 
prison of the body on the 15 th of the kalends of June, 
a. d. 680, and is buried in the same monastery which he had 
erected." 



24 Young Folks' History of Boston. 

Of the stories of miracles performed at his tomb, here is a 
beautiful one from the Chronicles, which, if it were true, 
would indicate that saints have a care for their bodies after 
death : — 

" In the time of Edgar (959-975), St. Ethelwold, the 
repairer of monasteries, obtained leave of the king to trans- 
fer the bodies of saints from the places and monasteries 
destroyed by the pagans, to the monasteries erected in his 
own time. 

" Now the Monastery of Ykanho (Ikanhoe-Boston) had 
been left destitute as an abode of monks, and destroyed by 
the persecutors of St. Edmund, the king, but it was by no 
means deserted by the devotion of the faithful. The place 
known to the inhabitants was held in great reverence, but it 
was saved in the divine offices of a single priest. 

" Now when a certain monk, with many others at the 
command of St. Ethelwold, had come to the tomb of St. 
Botulph, and had collected his precious bones and wrapped 
them in fine linen, and, having raised them on their shoulders, 
were endeavoring to carry them away, they are fixed with so 
great a weight that by no effort can they move a step. 

" The cloisters of the altar resound with a loud noise, as if 
to intimate the teaching of God's grace. 

" The monk aforesaid recollects of the things he has 
heard, that the blessed Adulph, the bishop, was buried with 
his brother. 

" They raised this brother's body out of the earth ; they 
then were relieved of the weight, and carried both bodies 
with them to St. Ethelwold, rejoicing. 

" He assigned the head of St. Botulph to the monastery of 
Ely, but reserved for himself and his cabinet of royal relics a 
portion of the rest of his body ; and what was left he con- 
ceded to the Church of Thorney, together with the body of 
the blessed Adulph." 




RUINS OF AN ANCIENT ABBEY. 



6So. 



St. Botolph. 



27 



The accounts of St. Botolph (or Botulph) are as beautiful 
as fairy stories, and would be a pleasing subject for a more 
extended article than we give here. My readers, I am sure, 
will be pleased to know that Boston received its name from 
one so greatly beloved and esteemed. 




" Though ages long have passed 
Since our fathers left their home, 
Their pilot in the blast, 
O'er untravelled seas to roam, — 
Yet lives the blood of England in our veins ! 
And shall we not proclaim 
That blood of honest fame, 
Which no tyranny can tame 

By its chains ? 

" While the language, free and bold, 
Which the bard of Avon sung, 
In which our Milton told 
How the vault of heaven rung, 
When Satan, blasted, fell with all his host ; 
While this, with reverence meet, 
Ten thousand echoes greet, 
From rock to rock repeat 

Round our coast ; 

" While the manners, while the arts, 
That mould a nation's soul, 
Still cling around our hearts, 
Between let ocean roll, 
Our joint communion breaking with the sun ; 
Yet, still, from either beach, 
The voice of blood shall reach, 
More audible than speech, 

' We are One ! ' " 

Washington Allston 



CHAPTER II. 

WHEREIN IS GIVEN SOME ACCOUNT OF ST. BO- 
TOLPH'S CHURCH, IN LINCOLNSHIRE. 

The city of Boston was founded by gentlemen ; not sons 
of a decayed aristocracy ; not persons using wealth to gain 
wealth ; not adventurers in search of gold ; not romantic 
dreamers in quest of a fountain that would restore to them 
their lost youth. It was indeed founded by gentlemen of 
wealth, but they were men who turned their backs on luxury 
for moral principle and peace of soul. 

The American traveller who reaches Liverpool in an Atlan- 
tic steamer may take the Manchester, Lincoln, and Sheffield 
Railway, and in a few hours find himself in the town of 
Boston, from which the founders of our Boston came. 

The borough resembles Holland in many respects. Here 
red-tiled roofs, like those of Rotterdam, are seen ; and quaint 
gables and small windows. Dutch-looking vessels lie in the 
harbor. It contains about fifteen thousand inhabitants. St. 
Botolph's Church is its principal architectural ornament. 
Our Boston contains nearly four hundred thousand inhabi- 
tants and two hundred churches. Old Boston is proud of her 
daughter, and the traders love to speak of her on market 
days. She has a right to be proud, for the daughter grew 
strong by following the instructions of a wise and worthy 
mother. 



32 Young Folks History of Boston. 

The ancient name of Old Boston was Ikanho, or Icanhoe. 
St. Botolph was abbot of Ikanho. America has named her 
towns and public buildings for nearly all the interesting places 
in the Old World mentioned in history, song, and fable, but 
Ikanho does not appear among them. 

The town is situated on the river Wytham. The church 
was begun in 1309. Its tower, which can be seen forty 
miles at sea, is three hundred feet high. 

This tower was anciently used as a lighthouse. For 
hundreds of years the sailors on the North Sea saw it 
blazing over the coast, and blessed the memory of St. Bo- 
tolph. 

The old church, as tested by the funeral services of the 
Princess Charlotte, would hold more people than any single 
church in New Boston. Five thousand people assembled 
there on the occasion of the memorial service for the prin- 
cess. 

Here John Cotton, vicar of Boston, preached twenty 
years. Here Isaac Johnson and Lady Arbella listened to 
his fervid preaching. 

John Cotton was born in the town of Derby, 1585. His 
father was a lawyer. He was graduated at Trinity College. 
He was descended from noble families, and received the 
most thorough training for whatever duty he should be called 
to fulfil. 

He was one of the independent spirits who refused to 
conform to the ritual imposed upon the Church by Arch- 
bishop Laud. He regarded the ritual as superstition, and 
he appealed to the Bishop of Lincoln and Earl of Dorset to 
protect him from persecution. He pleaded his unselfish and 
blameless life. The Earl of Dorset told him that " if his 
crime had been drunkenness or uncleanness or any lesser 
fault," he could be pardoned ; but non-conformity could not 
be overlooked. He advised him to fly. Charles I. was on 



Charles I. 



35 



the throne at this time. Archbishop Laud was filling the 
English gaols with Non-conformists. Cotton would not dis- 
crown his manhood by yielding to what he believed to be 




CHARLES I. 



wrong ; he therefore fled from Old Boston to found a new 
church " in the wilderness." 

The people used to say, " The old lantern in St. Botolph's 
Church went out for ever when Cotton left the town." 



36 



Young Folks History of Boston. 



But the lamp of religious freedom that was kindled in St. 
Botolph's shines to-day in thousands of sanctuaries whose 
influence fills the Western world ! 




COTTON MEMORIAL CHAPEL. 



Some years ago Edward Everett and a number of liberal 
American people restored a chapel of St. Botolph's Church, 
at a cost of about three thousand dollars, and placed in it a 
tablet, with an inscription in Latin by Mr. Everett, to the 
memory of John Cotton. 



"Our ancestors have left no Corinthian temples on our hills, no Gothic 
cathedrals on our plains, no proud pyramid, no storied obelisk, in our cities. 
But mind is there. Sagacious enterprise is there. An active, vigorous, intelli- 
gent, moral population throng our cities, and predominate in our fields ; men, 
patient of labor, submissive to law, respectful to authority, regardful of right, 
faithful to liberty. These are the monuments of our ancestors. They stand 
immutable and immortal, in the social, moral, and intellectual condition of their 
descendants. They exist in the spirit which their precepts instilled, and their 
example implanted." — President Quincy. 



CHAPTER III. 

WHEREIN IS GIVEN AN ACCOUNT OF WILLIAM 
BLACKSTONE, A RECLUSE, WHO WAS THE FIRST 
SETTLER OF BOSTON. 



\ This picture does not 
bear much resemblance 
to the houses on Bea- 
con Street, to the Hotels 
Brunswick or Vendome. 
It looks small indeed as 
compared with the new 
Post Office or City Hall, 
yet it was the first house 
ever built in Boston. 

The house stood on 
the west side of Beacon 
Hill, and a lovely situa- 
tion it must have been 
in summer time, looking out upon the forests on the river 
Charles, the harbor, and the pine-shadowed hills of the 
Mystic. There were very pure springs of water here, one 
near the place where is now Louisburg Square, another where 
is now Spring Lane. 

Its sole inhabitant was William Blackstone. He was a 
hermit, or at least he loved solitude better than society. He 
was a royalist, a firm Episcopalian, and believed, as did King 




WILLIAM BLACKSTONE'S HOUSE. 



40 Young Folks History of Boston. 

Charles and Archbishop Laud, in the divine right of kings to 
rule, without any parliaments to vex them or share the 
responsibility. He did not like the Puritans, their principles, 
or ways, but he was still a very kind-hearted and benevolent 
man, as you shall presently be told. 

He was a graduate of Emanuel College, Cambridge. 
Nearly all of the first settlers of Boston had received a col- 
legiate education. He began life as an Episcopal clergyman. 
He came to America soon after the Pilgrims, and settled at 
Shawmut, as Boston was then called, in 1623. Here he lived 
in seclusion, having only Indians for neighbors, for nearly 
seven years. He was at this period between thirty and forty 

years of age. 

jag^-^j^ --^=. - A P art Of tne em i" 

grants who came to 
Salem formed a settle- 
ment at Charlestown. 
Shawmut, now Boston, 
then presented the ap- 
-iflBiiiiiMC Pl^f^- - pearance of three high 

hills. The settlers at 
Charlestown called it 
Trimountain. 

In the summer of 
1630, a great sickness 

TRIMOUNTAIN. Dr ° ke ° Ut ^™% ^ 

settlers at Salem and 
Charlestown. Many died. The sickness was attributed to 
unwholesome water. 

When William Blackstone heard of the distress, he invited 
Winslow and his friends to remove to Boston, telling them 
how pure and healthful were the springs at that place. The 
invitation was accepted, and settlers from Salem and Charles- 
town began to build around the three pleasant hills. 




ON THE BANKS OF THE CHARLES. 



1633- William Blackstone. 43 

But William Blackstone did not like his new neighbors, 
whom he had so cordially invited to the healthful springs in 
their distress. He was so ungracious as to sneer at them as 
" my lord neighbors," and he sold all his land to them, 
except six acres, and removed again into the wilderness in 
1633. He settled at Rehoboth, Rhode Island. Blackstone 
River received its name from this pioneer. 

The Common was a part of Mr. Blackstone 's farm, and 
Washington Street and Tremont Street are said to follow 
"the windings of William Blackstone's cow." W r e could 
readily believe this even were it not further stated that the 
new dwellings were erected upon the paths through the 
woods made by Blackstone in his journeys about his farm. 
The cow must have picked out easy paths, without much 
regard to directness. She did not know what illustrious 
people would follow her ways. 

The six-acre lot that Mr. Blackstone reserved extended 
from the top of Beacon Hill to the Charles River. Beacon 
Street and Mt. Vernon Street run through the place now. 
Upon it what eminent people have lived ! Copley, Phillips 
(the first mayor), Harrison Gray Otis, Channing, John Han- 
cock, Prescott, Motley, Parkman, and others of equal or 
nearly equal eminence. 

Mr. Blackstone married late in life. He died at Cumber- 
land, Rhode Island, in May, 1675, a g eci about eighty years. 
He was always a lover of solitude, and this taste led him to 
Shawmut. 

The settlements on the Charles River were Arcadias in 
comparison with other places. The Indians were friendly, 
and never stained the peaceful banks with white people's 
blood. The colonists were generally exempt from sickness, 
famine, or any great calamities. Thus the settlements grew, 
stretching away along the banks of the winding river, that 
led them ever on to fertile fields and happy homes. 



" They rejected with contempt the ceremonious homage which other sects 
substituted for the pure worship of the soul. Instead of catching occasional 
glimpses of the Deity through an obscuring veil, they aspired to gaze full on 
the intolerable brightness, and to commune with Him face to face. Hence 
originated their contempt for terrestrial distinctions. The difference between 
the greatest and meanest of mankind seemed to vanish, when compared with 
the boundless interval which separated the whole race from Him on whom 
their own eyes were constantly fixed. They recognized no title to superiority 
but His favor; and confident of that favor, they despised all the accomplish- 
ments and all the dignities of the world." — Macaulay, — " The Puritans.'''' 



CHAPTER IV. 

WHEREIN IS CONTAINED THE STORY OF LADY 
ARBELLA JOHNSON. 

Those were dark times in England when good George 
Herbert, the gentle prophet, wrote : — 

" Religion stands on tiptoe in our land, 
Ready to pass to the American strand." 

Charles I. was entering upon a course of tyranny that 
brought him to the block. Illegal taxes were imposed upon 
the people. Laud ruled the Church with a rod of iron, and 
thought it heresy for any man to think differently from the 
king and himself. The king dissolved the Parliament, and 
announced his intention of ruling without one. The Star 
Chamber made personal liberty and private rights everywhere 
unsafe. Injustice prevailed in the Court, in the Church, 
everywhere. Men even feared to call upon God for help. 

The Puritan churches, or Dissenters, as those who differed 
from the Established Church were called, were persecuted on 

every hand. 

« The Church hath no place left to fly into but the wilder- 
ness " said good John Winthrop ; and into the wilderness 
John Winthrop, and some of the noblest and most heroic 
men and women of England, determined to fly, and to dare 
any danger rather than violate the principles of their faith. 



48 Young Folks History of Boston. 

They engaged a ship to take them to New England. It 
was called the Eagle. 

" Let us name it the Arbella," said one of these Christian 
pioneers, "for we have with us the daughter of an earl." 

The daughter of the earl was Lady Arbella Johnson. 
Her father was Thomas, the third Earl of Lincoln. She 
was a woman of great strength and beauty of character. 
Mather says, " She took New England on her way to 
heaven." 

She had married Isaac Johnson, a gentleman of wealth, 
the owner of landed estates in the counties of Rutland, 
Northampton, and Lincoln. 

Lady Arbella's pastor was good John Cotton, of St. Bo- 
tolph's Church, Boston. Mr. Johnson had been led to 

the exercise of strong 
faith in God by the 
influence of this Dis- 

^ Li/, senting minister. Just 

before leaving Eng- 
land he made a will 
in which he remem- 
bered his pastor as 
one from whom he 
had received " much 
jjt help and comfort in 

sailing from England. his spiritual state . 

This gentleman was 
indignant at the oppression and injustice that he saw 
his church suffering, and was one of those resolute men 
who were willing to sacrifice luxury and ease for religious 
freedom. 

The Lady Arbella joined him in his views and purpose. 
She went, according to Hubbard, " from a paradise of plenty 
and pleasure, which she enjoyed in the family of a noble 




1630. 



Jo Jin WintJirop. 



49 



earldom, into a wilderness of wants." She left England in 
April, 1630. 

The ship Arbella led the way of a great emigration to 
New England. Ten other ships followed, among them the 
Mayflower that had brought the Pilgrims to Plymouth. 

And now the Arbella is upon the sea. The storms of 
spring toss her about like a thing of air. Storm succeeds 
storm, and the voyage is slow. But a high purpose inspires 
the company amid all the perils. The colonists pray, sing, 
read the word 



of God, and 
encourage each 
other with pious 
conversation. 

John Win- 
throp is among 
them, who has 
sold the estate of 
his forefathers, 
and is going 
forth over the 
waters to plant 
a free church 
" in the wilder- 
ness." He has 
the king's char- 
ter in his keep- 
ing. He is a 
person of grave 
but benevolent countenance j he dresses in black, with a 
broad ruff around his neck, when on land, and he makes a 
very handsome picture, which we present to the reader. 
Sir Richard Saltonstall is also here, one of the first five 
projectors of the new colony. 




SIR RICHARD SALTONSTALL. 



5<d Young Folks History of Boston. 

It was the month of June when the Arbella sailed into 
the harbor of Salem. 

In 1626 Peter Palfrey, Roger Conant, and one or two 
other gentlemen settled in Salem. In 1628 they were joined 
by John Endicott and a small company, and thus a planta- 
tion was begun at the place. 

There were six or eight dwellings in the town when the 
Arbella arrived. The new land must have looked cheerful 
to the sea-weary colonists, for it was clothed with the verdure 
of summer time, and the days were the longest and fairest 
of the year. 

Lady Arbella, looking very pale and feeling very much 
exhausted, becomes the guest of John Endicott. Some of 
the company go away to form a settlement at Charlestown. 

Her husband makes a journey to Boston with Governor 
Winthrop and others. He thinks the three green hills over- 
looking the sheltered harbor very lovely, and he decides that 
he will there make his abode and provide a home for his 
beautiful wife. 

He began to prepare the ground where the Court House 
stands to-day, near the City Hall. The lot he selected 
extended to where King's Chapel now lifts its low tower, 
and reminds all who pass of the generations that are gone. 
He marked it out, dreamed bright dreams of the future, and 
returned to Salem to tell Lady Arbella what a lovely spot he 
had found. 

He returned on foot, through the summer forests that 
stretched away from the blue harbor. 

When he arrived at Salem he found Lady Arbella suddenly 
reduced to the mere shadow of a woman ; he saw that she 
was not long for this world, and his heart sank within him. 

The settlers shook their heads and said, "The Lady 
Arbella will not be with us long. We will make her life as 
happy as we can." 



1630. 



D eat J i of Lady Arbella. 



51 



She looked out upon the new settlement, and saw the men 
at work on their houses ; she saw at times dusky forms in 
paint and feathers come to the town. She heard the settlers 
talk of their plans for the future, but she felt that she would 




THE FIRST KING'S CHAPEL. 

not long enjoy the sight of the pleasant harbors and green 
forests, but would soon be at rest. 

And so it was. She was after a little time unable to sit up 
in her chair, and in about one month from the time of the 
landing she died. 

They made her a grave amid the oaks and pines. The 



52 Young Folks History of Boston. 

city of Salem sprang into life around it, and at last, after 
two hundred years, they have erected a stone church on the 
spot. 

Her husband returned to Boston a broken-hearted man. 
He, too, began to waste away. He lived but a few weeks 
after the death of Lady Arbella. 

" Bury me," he said, " in the spot I had marked out for 
our house." 

They did so. His was the first grave in the field that is 
now known as King's Chapel Burying-ground. 

In July the Arbella, the admiral of the little fleet, a vessel of 
three hundred and fifty tons, manned with fifty-two seamen, 
and furnished with twenty-eight pieces of ordnance, dropped 
anchor in Boston- harbor, accompanied by the Talbot, the 
vice-admiral, and the Jewell, the captain of the fleet. 

These were probably the vessels into which Lieutenant- 
Governor Dudley says " we unshipped our goods, and with 
much cost and labour brought them in July to Charles 
Towne." 



" Month after month passed away, and in autumn the ships of the merchants 
Came with kindred and friends, with cattle and corn for the Pilgrims. 
All in the village was peace ; the men were intent on their labors, 
Busy with hewing and building, with garden-plot and with merestead, 
Busy with breaking the glebe, and mowing the grass in the meadows, 
Searching the sea for its fish, and hunting the deer m the forest." 



CHAPTER V. 

WHEREIN ARE RELATED SOME INCIDENTS OF THE 
LIFE OF GOVERNOR JOHN WINTHROP, THE 
FOUNDER OF BOSTON. 

The traveller in England, who goes down to Groton, in 
the county of Suffolk, in summer, will there see an ancient, 
fortress-like church, standing serenely in the sun, and over- 
looking a quiet landscape of matchless verdure. Close to 
to the church, under the windows as it were, may be seen 
the old tomb where rest the remains of the Winthrop family. 
In this dreamy old town Governor John Winthrop was born 
on the 2 2d of January, 1588. 

Few of my readers will ever go to Groton, England, to see 
the old tomb of the Winthrops, but nearly all may go to 
King's Chapel Burying-ground and there see the tomb where 
Governor John Winthrop, one of the most noble men and 
certainly the most useful member of the Massachusetts Bay 
Colony, sleeps. The slender trees shade it, the sun pencils 
it lightly in summer through the green leaves, beyond it busy 
men are seen going to and coming from the City Hall. 

Governor John Winthrop was the founder of Boston. 

He was educated at Cambridge, England, in Trinity 
College. 

He was elected governor by the Massachusetts Bay Com- 
pany of London. He sailed in the Arbella, as we have told 
you, and he brought the charter of Massachusetts with him. 
He landed at Salem, removed to Charlestown, and thence to 



58 Young Folks History of Boston. 

Boston, and was twelve times re-elected governor of the 
Colony, and three times chosen deputy-governor. 

His residence was on Washington Street, just opposite the 
foot of School Street ; the Old South Church stands on the 
ground that was a part of his garden. There was a natural 
spring of water near by, cool and very healthful. This spring 
gave the name to a once famous, but now almost neglected 
street, called Spring Lane. 

In his youth he was the subject of a somewhat remarkable 
religious experience, which formed his views and directed 
his aims for life. We will give you a glance at this powerful 
change, as it will show you what kind of men the Puritans 
were, and how firmly they believed themselves led and 
inspired by the Spirit of God : — 

"I began," he says, "to come under strong exercises of 
conscience. I could no longer dally with religion. God put 
my soul to sad tasks sometimes, which yet the flesh would 
shake off and outwear still. Notwithstanding all my stub- 
bornness and kind rejections of mercy, He left me not till 
He had overcome my heart to give itself up to Him and to 
bid farewell to all the world. 

" Now came I to some peace and comfort in God. I 
loved a Christian and the very ground he went upon. 
I honored a faithful minister in my heart, and could have 
kissed his feet. I could not miss a sermon, though many 
miles away." 

In his journal, passing over. a period of many years, he has 
left an account of his inward struggle with besetting sins. 
He was one of the most blameless of men, but one would 
suppose from this account that he was a most dreadful evil- 
doer. When he was about thirty years of age he was taken 
very sick. During this sickness he gained that experience 
of faith which every Puritan believed essential to a Christian 
life. 




JOHN WINTHROP. 



1630. John Winthrop' s Journal. 61 

He says : — 

" The good Spirit of the Lord breathed upon my soul and 
said I should live. Now could my soul close with Christ 
and rest there in sweet content, so ravished with his love, as 
I desired nothing and feared nothing, but was filled with joy 
unspeakable and glorious, and with the spirit of adoption." 

This language reads like that of an ancient prophet. We 
might quote pages of similar narrative as simple and sublime. 
But these pictures will show you the kind of man the father 
of our city was. You may perhaps look with more venera- 
tion on the bronze statue in Scollay Square, after getting this 
view of his inner life. 

But it was the stern battles of his public career that history 
most records. The journal of his life in Boston lies before 
me ; it reads like a long story ; we hope our young friends 
may read it. 1 

Here is an extract of the events of a single week, written 
soon after his arrival at Salem : — 

" Thursday, July 1 (1630). The Mayflower and the 
Whale arrived safe in Charlton (Charlestown) harbor. Their 
passengers were all in health, but most of their cattle dead. 

"Friday, 2d. The Talbot arrived there. She had lost 
fourteen passengers. 

" My son, Henry Winthrop, was drowned at Salem. 

" Saturday, 3d. The Hopewell and William and Francis 
arrived. 

"Monday, 5th. The Trial arrived at Charlton, and the 
Charles at Salem. 

" Tuesday, 6th. The Success arrived. 

" Wednesday, 7th. The Lion went back to Salem. 

" Thursday, 8th. We kept a day of Thanksgiving in all 
plantations." 

1 "The History of New England from 1630 to 1649," by John Winthrop, 
Esq., from his original manuscripts. Edited by James Savage. 



62 Voting Folks' History of Boston. 

What heroic modesty appears in this simple journal : " My 
son, Henry Winthrop, was drowned at Salem." He would 
have considered it selfish to have said more of his boy. 
Were there not stricken hearts all around him ? What were 
his griefs more than another's ! Yet this son was a most 
interesting and promising young man, and beloved by all the 
colonists. 

This journal of a week shows also how rapidly emigrants 
began to arrive. These emigrants had intended to settle in 
one place. But this was not so to be. "We were forced," 
says Deputy-Governor Dudley, in a letter to the Countess of 
Lincoln, " to change counsel, and for our present shelter to 
plant dispersedly ; some at Charlestown, which standeth on 
the north side of the mouth of Charles River ; some on the 
south side thereof, which place we named Boston, as we 
intended to have done the place we first resolved on ; some 
of us upon the Mistick, which we named Medford ; some of 
us westward on Charles River, which place we called Water- 
town ; others of us two miles from Boston in a place we 
named Roxbury, and the western men four miles south from 
Boston, at a place we called Dorchester." 

Cambridge, which included within its limits the territory 
where are the present towns of Brighton, Newton, Arlington, 
Lexington, Bradford, and Billerica, had its beginning in an 
agreement between Governor Winthrop and his assistants to 
build a protected town for the seat of government between 
Roxbury and Boston. The location proved unsuitable, and 
they finally determined to build " at a place a mile east of 
Watertown, on the Charles River." Here Cambridge was 
founded in 163 1. Deputy Governor Dudley and his son-in- 
law, Bradstreet, were the first inhabitants. Governor Win- 
throp built a house there, but was called by duty to Boston. 
For this, Dudley, who was a fiery-minded man, accused him 
of violating his promise, and called him many hard names, 
which caused Winthrop much sorrow. 



l6}2. 



The First Meeihig-Honsc. 



65 



Governor Winthrop's settlement in Boston rapidly grew, 
and drew to it some of the ablest men that came to New 
England at the beginning of the great emigration. A church 
was formed, and John Wilson, a saintly man, became the first 
pastor. It was called the First Church. The simple cove- 
nant of this church is now inscribed on one of the windows 
of the First Church on the Back Bay. You may like to go 
and see it some day. 

Mr. Wilson preached at times in private houses and under 
the boughs of great trees. A meeting-house was at last 
erected. Here is a pic- 
Should you go to the 
Back Bay to see the cove- 
nant of the First Church, 
look around you upon the 
splendid edifices of reli- 
gion, art, and education 
that rise on every hand, 
then think of this picture, 
and of good Mr. Wilson 
preaching under the trees. 

The new colonists decided that Boston would be the 
most appropriate place to hold public meetings and the 
General Court. Of course, Mr. Dudley thought it should 
be Cambridge, and he became very angry over the de- 
cision and said more hard things about Governor Win- 
throp. 

We have given you some incidents of Winthrop's religious 
feelings, let us now give you a few anecdotes of his conduct 
under severe trial. Dudley once wrote him a hard, insulting 
letter. He returned it calmly, saying : — 

" I am not willing to keep such an occasion of provocation 
by me." 

5 




FIRST MEETING-HOUSE. 



66 Young Folks History of Boston. 

Afterwards, when Winthrop did Dudley a great kindness, 
the latter gracefully said : — 

"Your overcoming yourself hath overcome me." 

The two men were reconciled at last. We will tell you one 
of the ways by which it was brought about. It reads like a 
passage from the ancient Scriptures. Says the chronicler : — 

"The Governor and Deputy-Governor went down to 
Concord to view some lands for farms. 

" They offered each other the first choice, but because the 
Deputy's was first granted, and himself had store of land 
already, the Governor yielded him the choice. 

" So at the place where the Deputy's land was to begin 
there were two great stones which they called Two Brothers. 

" They did this in remembrance that they were brothers 
by their children's marriage and did so brotherly agree. 

" A little creek near those stones was to part their lands." 

Salem, Charlestown, Boston, Roxbury, and Cambridge now 
began to receive large additions by emigration, and the per- 
secuted Dissenters in England looked to this promising 
colony as their place of refuge. 

A settlement had been made near Boston some years 
before the coming of Winthrop. In 1625 Captain Wollaston 
had led a company to Braintree, and called the place Mount 
Wollaston. 

The settlement was a happy and prosperous one for a 
time, but Captain Wollaston and a part of the company left 
it at last to make a voyage to Virginia. 

Among the men left behind was one Thomas Morton, a 
noisy, riotous fellow, who seems to have believed that the 
object of life was to enjoy one's self, and not to live with 
definite aims as the Puritans did. 

One night after the captain's departure Morton called the 
people together and gave them plenty of punch, and when 
they had become merry and excited he said, — 



1 628. 



Revels at Merry-Motmt. 



67 



" The captain is gone ; let us turn out the lieutenant, and 
then we can all do as we please." 

This would be freedom, indeed. The men consented, 
and the poor lieutenant was obliged to relinquish his au- 
thority. 

The company now began to do as they pleased, and 
a great change passed over the settlement at Mount 
Wollaston. The men spent their days in idleness, or 
dancing with the Indians, and their nights in drinking and 
carousing. They erected a May-pole to mark the place for 
their dances and carousals. They called the place Merry- 
Mount. 

The Indians liked Merry-Mount, and the Indian women 
joined in the merry-makings. Morton began to sell arms to 
the Indians. 

This was unlawful. Captain 
Miles Standish was accordingly 
sent from Plymouth to arrest 
Morton, which he did, and the 
colony at Merry-Mount was 
thus broken up. Soon after the 
settlement of Salem, Endicott 
visited Mount Wollaston, and 
cut down the May-pole of the 
roystering pioneer. Morton 
says that this May-pole was "a 
goodly pine-tree, eighty feet 
long, with a pair of buck horns 
nailed somewhat near the top 
of it." The drunken and licen- 
tious revels at Merry- Mount 

proved a calamity to the colonies, in that it put the Indians 
in possession of the deadly weapons of the whites. 

The journal of Governor Winthrop is full of interesting 




WINTHROP FORDING A STREAM. 



68 



Young Folks' History of Boston. 



stories. One of them relates to his visit to Plymouth when 
he forded streams by being carried on a stout man's back. 




SHBBHSil 



^^^m 



ms&k 




REVELS AT MERRY-MOUNT. 



Here is a touching story of a misfortune that happened in 
the cool October weather of 1630. 




MILES STANDISH DISCOVERS THE REVELLERS AT MERRY-MOUNT. 



1630. The Lost Family. 71 



THE LOST FAMILY. 

On the 28th of October, Richard Garrett, a shoemaker of 
Boston, and one of his daughters, and four other persons 
went towards Plymouth in a shallop. Mr. Garrett started 
against the advice of his friends, as cold weather was at 
hand. 

They were driven out to sea by a high wind, and the boat 
took in much water, which began to freeze. 

They gave themselves up for lost, commended themselves 
to God, and waited for death. 

At last one espied land near Cape Cod. They hoisted a 
part of their sail and were driven through the rocks to the 
shore. 

A part of the company landed, but some of them found 
their feet frozen into the ice so that they could not move 
them until cut out. 

They kindled a fire, but having no hatchet they could 
secure but little wood to feed it, and were forced to lie in 
the open air all night. The weather was severely cold for 
the season, and their sufferings were extreme. 

The next morning two of them set out on foot for 
Plymouth, which they supposed to be near, but which was 
really fifty miles distant. 

On their way they met two Indian squaws. These, in 
going to their wigwam, said to the braves, — 

"We have seen Englishmen." 

" They are shipwrecked," said the Indians. " Let us go 
in search of them, and bring them to our wigwam." 

The company was soon overtaken by the friendly Indians, 
and returned with them to their wigwam, where they were 
provided with warmth and food. 

One of the Indians offered to lead the two men to 



72 Voting Folks' History of Boston. 

Plymouth, and another started to find the members of the 
company left behind, and to relieve them, if possible. 

This faithful Indian found the lost travellers at last in great 
distress, at a distance of some seven miles. 

" I will go back and get a hatchet," he said, "and I will 
build you a wigwam." 

Back, a seven miles' walk, on that cold day plodded the 
Indian, and returned as soon as he could with the hatchet. 
He built a shelter for the sufferers, and got them wood to 
feed the fire. 

They were so weak and frozen as to be scarcely able to 
move. 

Garrett, the leader of the adventure, was one of the dis- 
abled party left behind at this place. In two days he died. 

The ground was frozen so hard that they could not dig a 
grave for him, but the good Indian succeeded in cutting a 
hole about half a yard deep, and in this he laid the body 
and covered it with boughs to protect it from the wolves. 

What hours of anguish were these, and what a messenger 
of mercy proved that one faithful Indian ! 

After a time a party arrived from Plymouth to rescue them. 
Another of the company died, his legs being " mortified with 
frost." The two men who went towards Plymouth died, 
one of them on his journey thither, and the other soon 
after his arrival. But the Indian guide led the English to 
the surviving sufferers. The girl escaped with the least 
injury. The survivors were taken back to Boston in a boat. 
They were supposed by the colonists there to have been lost. 

It was not an uncommon thing for some member of the 
colony to get lost. The governor himself lost his way at 
one time, and passed a most uncomfortable night alone. 

He had a farm on the west side of Mystic River, which 
he called Ten Hills. One evening in October, 1631, he 




END1C0TT CUTTING DOWN MORTON'S MAY-POLE, 



1631. Governor Winthrop loses his Way. 75 

took his gun and walked away from his farmhouse, thinking 
he might meet a wolf. The wolves were very plenty between 
the Charles and the Mystic at that time. He was overtaken 
by darkness, and was unable to tell the direction of his house. 
He at last came to a deserted Indian wigwam elevated upon 
posts. He built a fire outside to keep away the animals, and 
lay down on some mats he found within, but could not sleep. 

He arose, and passed the night feeding the fire and singing 
psalms. 

A little before day it began to rain. The governor crept 
into the wigwam. Presently he heard a noise outside. He 
looked out, and saw an Indian squaw climbing up. 

He shut the door and fastened it against her, which 
seems rather ungracious treatment. The squaw went away 
from her poor home in the rain, and the governor gladly 
sought his own home as soon as it was light. 

The white people of both the Plymouth and Massachu- 
setts Bay Colonies always found friends in the Indians in 
their troubles at this early period, and when any one lost 
his way, a good Indian guide would be found to leave his 
own way and lead him home. We will close this chapter 
with one of the many stories of Indian friendliness that at this 
time were told by the winter firesides of the two colonies : — 

THE LOST BOY. 

Aspinet, sagamore of the Nausets, was the first open enemy 
encountered by the Pilgrims of Plymouth Colony. 

He had suffered a grievous wrong at the hands of the 
English, before the Pilgrims came, and this was the cause 
of his hostility. 

In 1 6 14 one Hunt, a trader, sailing along the coast in 
search of fish, kidnapped twenty-four Indians belonging to 
Patuxet or Plymouth. He enticed them to his vessel by 



j6 Young Folks' History of Boston. 

false pretences and promises, and caused them to be secured 
in a very brutal manner. Twelve of these Indians were Nau- 
sets, under the sachemship of Aspinet. 

In the summer of 1621, a little boy belonging to one of 
the families of Plymouth Colony strayed into the forests that 
then covered Massachusetts, and lost his way. 

He at last met an old Indian, and indicated his distress to 
him by his gestures and his tears. The Indian treated him 
kindly, and gave him food, and took him along with him, till 
they came to a most lovely expanse of water that lay by the 
sea. 

There was great excitement in Plymouth Colony when it 
became certain that the boy was lost. The colonists were 
very suspicious of the Indians, well knowing how much cause 
for hostile feeling towards the English had been given them 
by Hunt and by other early adventurers. 

A company of colonists, under the leadership of Edward 
Winslow, set out from Plymouth in search of the lost boy. 
They hoped to find him among the friendly natives near the 
settlement, but much feared that he had fallen into the hands 
of Aspinet, who, they believed, would kill him, in retaliation 
for the injuries that the coast Indians had suffered. 

The party sailed along the coast until they came to Cum- 
maquid, where they anchored in a sheltered body of water, 
near the fishing huts of the Mattakees. The chief of this 
territory was a young man named Gyanough. His manners 
were so courteous and gentle, and his disposition so amiable 
and pacific, that he made himself greatly beloved by his own 
people and by the neighboring tribes. The English, who 
were his neighbors, bestowed upon him the appellation, 
"The Courteous Sachem of Cummaquid." His sachemship 
extended over the Indians inhabiting the country known now 
as the eastern part of Barnstable, and the western part of 
Yarmouth, in Massachusetts. 




A LOST SETTLER FOUND. 



i62i. The Lost Boy. 79 

During the night, the tide fell so low as to leave them 
aground. In the morning they discovered some of Gyan- 
ough's Indians on the shore, and they sent Squanto, an 
Indian interpreter, to them, to inform them of the object of 
their visit, and of their friendly disposition. 

"Have you any tidings of a lost English boy?" asked 
Squanto. 

" We have heard of him. He was found wandering in the 
woods by a fisherman. He is well." 

" Where is he now?" 

" At Nauset, with Aspinet." 

The English now thought it prudent to land, and to make 
Gyanough a visit. The Indians seemed greatly delighted 
with the proposal, and a part of them voluntarily remained 
with the boatmen as hostages, while the others conducted 
the strangers to the rural palace. 

Gyanough received them in a very courteous manner, and 
ordered a feast to be spread for them. He assured them of 
the safety of the missing boy, and did not seem to doubt 
that Aspinet would receive the English kindly, and deal with 
them justly. 

The English spent a few hours with Gyanough, and then 
sailed for Nauset, to recover the missing boy. 

Nauset, or Namskeket, was a favorite resort of the Wam- 
panoag Indians, who came there to gather shell-fish from the 
immense quantities that filled the picturesque shores. As 
soon as the English arrived, which was on a lovely summer 
afternoon, they sent Squanto to the royal residence of As- 
pinet, to acquaint the chief with their errand, and to ask the 
favor of a friendly interview. 

Aspinet received Squanto kindly, and, as he was too noble 
an Indian to take advantage of an accident or a misfortune 
for the purpose of revenge, he at once promised to pay the 
English a friendly visit at a place near the coast. 



co 



Young Folks History of Boston. 



It was sunset, and the fair summer light was fading on the 
calm sea. Just as the shadows were growing dark on the 
eastern slopes of the hills, Aspinet appeared, followed by a 




INDIANS RETURNING A LOST CHILD. 



great train of warriors. He was richly ornamented, and his 
followers were bedecked with all the insignia of barbarian 
splendor. Upon his great shoulders, glittering with beads 
and wampum, the noble-hearted chief carried the little boy. 



l62I. 



The Lost Boy. 



81 



The child's heart was filled with joy, and he held his hands 
aloft with emotion? when he saw from the glimmering hill- 
top the English sail on the beautiful sea. 

Aspinet came down to the water's edge, bearing the 
delighted child, and followed by a hundred braves. The 
English were waiting to receive him in their boat, that was 
anchored in the shallow water near the shore. The chieftain 
did not stop for a canoe to convey him to them. He came 
wading through the water until he reached the English, then 
taking the boy from his shoulders, he placed him upon the 
deck. The boy wore on his neck a most beautiful ornament 
of Indian beads. 



Harbour of 
"ON 







J?£rtg7uun> 



"The hand that cut 
The Red Cross from the colors of the king, 
Can cut the red heart from this heresy." 



CHAPTER VI. 

WHEREIN IS GIVEN SOME ACCOUNT OF SIR HENRY 
VANE, ANNE HUTCHINSON, AND THOSE RELIGIOUS 
PERSECUTIONS OUT OF WHICH GREW LIBERTY OF 
CONSCIENCE AND OPINION. 

Boston grew. All of the settlements on the borders of 
Massachusetts Bay rapidly increased. Ships bringing emi- 
grants came constantly into Boston harbor. 

Stores and inns were opened in Boston. Boats were built 
on the Mystic. Ferry-boats were run between Boston and 
Charlestown. 

John Cotton, the learned Dissenter of St. Botolph's Church, 
preached to the people. The Church governed politics, and 
the ministers to a large extent governed the Church. 

In 1635 a notable event happened in Boston. It was the 
arrival of Mr. Henry Vane, a young man about twenty-three 
years of age. He has been called " one of the greatest and 
purest men that ever walked the earth." 

He was the son of Sir Henry Vane, was educated at Ox- 
ford, and had become an enthusiastic republican in politics, 
and a Non-conformist in religion. He had travelled in 
France and Switzerland, and was well schooled in politics 
and the knowledge of statesmanship. 

He was received in Boston with public demonstrations of 
joy, and in a few months after his arrival, when only twenty- 
four years of age, was chosen governor of the colony. 



86 



Young Folks History of Boston. 



About this time dissenters from the Puritans' doctrines 
began to agitate the colony. The Puritans dissented from 
the rituals of the Episcopal Church. The new dissenters 
objected to the Levitical Law, which was virtually made the 




HENRY VANE. 



government of the church and colony. They were called 
Antinomians. They taught that Christians were no longer 
under the law but under grace, and should be governed by 
the Holy Spirit in all things, and whatever they did or might 
do was right. Each man was a law unto himself. 



1635. Anne Hutchinson. 87 

The leader of this dissension was an accomplished and 
brilliant woman, the daughter of an English clergyman and 
the wife of an influential colonist. Her name was Anne 
Hutchinson. 

She was accustomed to hold religious meetings for women. 
These were attended by some seventy or eighty persons. She 
prayed, gave expositions of Scripture, and lectures on the ser- 
mons of Wilson and Cotton. 

The leading men of the colony resolved to silence this 
woman, but Governor Vane had no sympathy with the 
attacks on Mrs. Hutchinson. The gallant Sir Henry espoused 
her cause, and was the first person to lay down with 
precision the doctrine that religious opinion ought to be 
exempted from all civil authority. 

This position of Vane made him unpopular, and the next 
year he failed of an election as governor. He returned to 
England in disappointment. Mrs. Hutchinson, being banished, 
went to Rhode Island, and afterwards to New York, where she 
was killed by the Indians in one of the attacks on the Dutch 
colonies. She was a good woman, but the tendency of her 
doctrines, as the reader can see, was towards too great free- 
dom in government and religious conduct. In the matter of 
the rights of conscience, she was in the main correct, but 
the people were not quite prepared for this new principle. 

Sir Henry Vane became a leader in England in the strug- 
gle for civil and religious liberty. He carried into the House 
of Peers the articles of impeachment against Archbishop Laud, 
whose persecutions had driven the Puritans to Boston. He 
helped bring Charles I. to the block, but he was jealous of 
the rising power of Cromwell. On the establishment of the 
Commonwealth in 1649, ne became one of the Council of 
State. 

He criticised the ambition of Cromwell so severely as to 
cause the Protector much vexation and chagrin. 



S8 



Young Folks History of Boston. 



"The Lord deliver me from Sir Harry Vane ! " exclaimed 
Cromwell on one occasion, after having been assailed by the 
fiery-minded republican. 

After the restoration of the Stuarts to the throne, this 
apostle of liberty, this " thorn in the flesh to kings and to Crom- 
well," lost his influence. He was accused of high treason, 
tried, condemned, and executed on Tower Hill. 




BURIAL OF THE KING. 



His deportment at the hour of execution was full of 
dignity. His last prayer was wonderful. He died like a 
martyr and a victor. The principles that he taught have 
their best memorial in the political and religious freedom of 
our own country, and the republican sentiment of the world. 

In February, 1631, there had come to Boston from Wales 
a Non-conformist minister, by the name of Roger Williams. 
He had been educated at Pembroke College, Cambridge. 



1631. 



Oliver Cromwell. 



91 



He was chosen assistant to Mr. Skelton in the ministry at 
Salem. Here he asserted the principle that the Church 




OLIVER CROMWELL. 



should be separated from the State, and that a man's con- 
science should not be subject to the civil law. For these 
opinions, which all true Americans hold to-day, he was 



92 Young Folks History of Boston. 

obliged to leave Salem. He went to Plymouth, but after- 
wards returned to Salem, and became the pastor of the 
church. In 1635 he was banished, for again asserting his 
views of religious toleration and freedom. He went to 
Rhode Island ; was sheltered by the good chief Massasoit, 
who showed himself as much a Christian at heart as the 
magistrates of Salem had shown themselves bigots in spirit 
and conduct ; he founded the State of Rhode Island, the 
happiest and most prosperous of all the early New England 
Christian Commonwealths, and one of which the civilization 
of the world has never been ashamed. Rhode Island is the 
smallest State in the Union, and the richest, according to the 
number of inhabitants, and it has, perhaps, the fairest history 
of all. 

Roger Williams studied the Indian language, and en- 
deavored to teach the Indians. As he was a man of peace, 
his influence over them was great. Hearing that a council of 
war was to be held by the leaders of the tribes for the 
destruction of the towns that had sent him into exile, he 
suddenly appeared among the Indians, and tried to prevent 
the alliance. 

He visited England, and was a friend of Milton, Cromwell, 
and Sir Henry Vane. He died at Providence in 1683. 

In 1649 Governor Winthrop died. He was succeeded by 
John Endicott, the founder of Salem, a very stern, resolute, 
inflexible man. 

There were strange doings in Governor Endicott's day, 
as you shall presently be told. He felt that it was his pre- 
rogative as governor to make all the people think as he 
did, and to punish any who should not. What was the 
use of a governor if it were not to control the opinions of 
men ? 

Endicott had left England because he differed in opinion 
from the state Church, but it does not seem to have occurred 



i6 5 6. 



John E?idicott. 



95 



Eng- 
and 




to him that any one had the right to be so perverse as to 
dissent from him and from his church, and for this reason he 
left a very dark history, as we shall see. He cut the red 
cross out of the English flag one 
training- day, because he regard- 
ed it an emblem of idolatry; 
and he was unwilling to march 
his company of soldiers under 
it, — an act which much dis- 
turbed Governor Winthrop, 
whose heart was loyal to the 
banner associated with 
land's historic greatness 
glory. 

In 1656 Governor Endicott 
learned with surprise that some 
Quaker books had been brought 
into the colony ; his surprise was 
soon after doubled by hearing that a vessel from Barbadoes 
had landed two Quaker women in Boston. 

Two Quaker women ! What was to be done ? Endicott 
summoned Deputy-Governor Bellingham, a man of a cloudy, 
severe, and quick temper, and Rev. John Norton, the Bos- 
ton pastor, a man of austere and melancholy temperament, 
to a consultation. The three were not long in deciding 
that the two women should be arrested and sent to jail 
until they could be carried out of the jurisdiction of the 
colony. 

There was an open space before the meeting-house which 
contained some corrective implements that would look rather 
odd in an open space before a meeting-house to-day. There 
were the stocks and pillory and whipping-post, and we 
know not what other means of discipline and grace. Here 
a pile of fagots was made, and the dangerous Quaker 



CUTTING OUT THE RED CROSS. 



g6 



Young Folks' History of Boston. 



books were burned, after which the magistrates for a short 
time rested from their resolute efforts to secure uniformity of 
opinion. 

But not long : another vessel came, bringing eight Quakers, 
four men and four women. Here was trouble, indeed. The 
officers, however, were not delinquent; they arrested them 




THE STOCKS. 



all as soon as they arrived, and marched them off to jail. 
What an interesting procession that must have been ! They 
were sent back in the same vessel that brought them, and 
judicial old Governor Endicott had time to breathe freely 
once more. 

He must have been glad when they were gone, for one 
Sunday, when he was returning from church in great dignity, 
and had reached the place opposite the jail, he heard a sharp 
voice exclaiming, — 




JOHN ENDICOTT. 



i6 5 6. 



Persecution of the Quakers. 



99 



"Woe, woe to the oppressor ! Woe, woe !" or words to 
this import. 

He was greatly shocked that his office was not more re- 
spected. The voice was one of the imprisoned Quakers. 




" Have her silenced," he ordered, and then proceeded on 
his way, wondering that there were such unreasonable people 
in the world. 

The General Court now passed an act forbidding Quakers 
to come into the colony. But they continued to come. The 
magistrates had them whipped and sent away, and when 
they returned had them whipped again. Whipping at the 
cart-tail was a common mode of punishment. The clothes of 
the Quaker were stripped down to the loins, and the lash 
was applied to his bare back. We give a picture of one of 
these unhappy scenes. 



ioo Young Folks History of Boston. 

A number of Quakers in England, hearing of the persecu- 
tions of their sect in New England, thought they were bound 
in duty to come to America, and after the manner of the an- 
cient prophets to denounce the " bloody magistrates " for 
laying hands on the "people of the Lord." Governor Endi- 
cott, as you may well believe, attended to their cases as fast 
as they arrived ; he caused them to be imprisoned, whipped, 
and some of the more persistent ones to lose their ears. It 
was at last enacted that any Quaker who returned to the col- 
ony three times should have his "tongue burned through 
with a hot iron.' 1 We must confess that we do not very 
greatly love Governor Endicott, and should not be inclined 
to urge one to subscribe over-liberally for a monument to 
him. He is not one of the characters that improve with 
history. 

Yet he thought he did right. The Quakers themselves 
were sometimes to blame ; some of them sought martyrdom, 
and they often said and did unwise things, — interrupting 
meetings and disturbing the public peace, calling the clergy 
"hypocrites," the "seed of the serpent," "hirelings," and 
other names disagreeable to hear. 

Some of them were executed. Three of a company who 
had been banished returned to suffer, one of the women 
bringing " winding-sheets " with them. What a strange spec- 
tacle that must have been ! 

But the people at last sickened of scenes like these. Gov- 
ernor Endicott and the melancholy Norton were compelled 
by public sentiment to pause and consider what they were 
doing. The General Court repealed the law for capital 
punishment of Quakers, and the excitement gradually died 
away. 



1656. The Story of Mary Dyer. 103 



THE STORY OF MARY DYER. 

The people have gathered on Boston Common to witness 
an execution. From the jail to the Common the highway is 
full of excited men, some sullen, some indignant, that people 
who have committed no crime should be condemned to die ; 
some upholding the magistrates, others excusing them ; all is 
rancor ; every one's heart is moved. 

Soldiers are distributed here and there to preserve order, 
and prevent an outbreak. There are a hundred soldiers 
about the jail. 

Three condemned Quakers come forth from the prison. 
Look at them. They walk hand in hand, — two men, one 
woman. 

They pass firmly along, a great crowd following. 

On the Common there was a gallows ; some say that the 
Old Elm was used for the purpose. It was near the " end 
of the Common," and the great tree marked the end of the 
Common then. 

The victims go up to it, and bow their necks calmly to the 
hangman's nervous hands. 

A shudder passes through the crowd. The two men are 
swung into the air, — a dreadful sight, — but the woman 
stands unharmed, as though still awaiting her doom. 

The men die ; then the magistrates order the woman to be 
taken away. 

The crowd are joyful that she is spared. There is a feeling 
of relief in the hearts of the people surging under the 
trees. 

" Why dost thou not let me die with my brethren ? " she 
demands. 

" Your son has come to the city, and has interceded for 
your life. We made you stand by the condemned and wit- 



104 Young Folks History of Boston. 

ness their death that you might see their sufferings and your 
peril, and never return to Boston again." 

She went away with her son. But she was sorry she could 
not have been a martyr. Her dissatisfaction grew. 

Not long after she returned to Boston, and denounced the 
magistrates for their unholy deeds. 

" Woe, woe, woe ! " she said, and followed it with the awful 
language of the prophets, when condemning the bloody cities 
of old for their sins. 

She was again condemned to death. 

Again a great crowd gathered on the Common. It was not 
then the beautiful park that it is now. The Charles River 
marshes came almost to the hill where the Soldiers' Monu- 
ment now stands. The Great Elm stood at the end of the 
town, on the border of the marshes. 

"We will release you," said the magistrates, "if you will 
promise to go away, and never return again." 

" No. In obedience to the will of God I came, and in 
obedience to His will I will now remain, faithful unto death." 

The executioner performed his office, and Mary Dyer died 
the death she had sought, as though it was the greatest bless- 
ing the heart could desire. In her own view she was thus 
enabled to surrender her life to the Lord. 

The people turned away from the Common, sick at heart, 
wondering if, indeed, Governor Endicott or Mary Dyer was 
right, or both alike wrong. 

The Quakers who were executed were buried " in an en- 
closed place " on the Common. If we knew where the spot 
is, we would tell you. We think it was near the place of the 
Old Elm. 







Sg^i^g 



" No one is so accursed by fate, 
No one so utterly desolate, 

But some heart, though unknown, 
Responds unto his own.'' 



CHAPTER VII. 

WHEREIN ARE RELATED SOME STORIES OF A NER- 
VOUS DISEASE, CALLED WITCHCRAFT. 



The belief in witches was 
common in Europe at the 
time of the early settlement 
of the towns of New Eng- 
land. The Puritan fathers 
brought it with them, and 
the severity of their lives 
and the awful mysterious- 
ness of the forests, peopled 
by wild men, and made 
perilous by wild beasts, 
favored the impression that 
there were spirits of evil in 
the air, earth, and sea, and 
in the very hearts of men. 

The strange picture at 
the head of this chapter 
represents not a reality, but 
the unseen world, as it some- 
times appeared to the Puritans' disordered fancy. 

Much has been said about the witchcraft delusion of Bos- 
ton and Salem, as though it was a thing peculiar to the 
colonies. The same delusion was prevalent in both England 
and Scotland at the same time as in New England. Witch- 




WITCHES. 



no Young Folks History of Boston. 

finding became a profession in England, and witch-finders 
were regarded as people of remarkable genius and spiritual 
insight, and the office was held in honor. 

More than two hundred years ago there lived in England a 
rough, brutal old man, who took for his name, " Witch- 
Finder General." 

His real name was Matthew Hopkins. He lived when 
there were numerous prosecutions for witchcraft in England, 
during 1645 anc ^ 1646. 

The title, by which he was generally known, indicates the 
part he acted. He seems to have been a privileged agent 
under the protection of the government. The expenses he 
incurred in travelling over the country were paid from the 
public treasury, and he also received a specified sum for 
every witch he found. 

You may be certain he discovered many, when such en- 
couragement was given him. 

It was a favorite practice with the witch-finders of those 
days, to prick the body of the suspected person with some 
sharp instrument, like an awl or penknife, to find the " witch- 
mark," as it was called. 

Suspected persons were obliged to have their bodies pricked 
over with this instrument, by those chosen for the purpose, 
and if a callous or hard place was found, which was most 
often the case with hard-working or aged persons, they were 
at once condemned as witches. 

" Does not Satan always make his mark upon those who 
sell themselves to him? " argued the witch-finder. 

Hopkins was not satisfied with this test, but contrived 
others far more cruel. 

For instance, he compelled his aged and decrepit victims 
to sit on high stools with their limbs crossed, and would not 
allow them to go to sleep till they had confessed their intimacy 
with the devil. 



i645- Stories of Witchcraft. Ill 

He would also take some worn-out old man, and compel 
him to walk barefoot over rough ground until the wretched 
victim fell dead from exhaustion and exposure. 

Hopkins's most common mode of torture was this : having 
tied the thumb of the right hand to the great toe of the 
left foot, he threw the miserable victim into a pond or 
river, and caused her to be dragged to and fro. If the 
accused persons floated, as they probably would in this posi- 
tion, he said it was proof of their guilt. If they sank, they 
died in innocence. It must have been a dreadful misfor- 
tune to incur the suspicion of such a man. 

It has been said, on good authority, that he caused to be 
put to death, in one county in England, in one year, more 
than three times as many as suffered at Salem, during the 
whole delusion, half a century later. 

You may find reference to this monster, Hopkins, in the 
following lines from Butler's Hudibras : — 

" Has not this present Parliament 
A leiger to the devil sent, 
Fully empowered to treat about 
Finding revolted witches out, 
And has he not within a year 
Hanged threescore of them in one shire ? " 

His success was accounted for, by believing that in an en- 
counter with Satan he had wrested from him his private 
memorandum book, in which were kept the names and ad- 
dresses of those in his employ. 

Among those put to death was an aged man named Lewis. 
He had been a minister of the Established Church for fifty 
years, and was over eighty when he was brought to trial, or 
rather to torture, for witchcraft. 

He was subjected to the cruel tortures of the day, even to 
being dragged through the pond. 



1 1 2 Young Folks History of Boston. 

The intrepid old man maintained his innocence through 
the whole, but was at last condemned to die the death of a 
felon, without the rite of burial. He was obliged to read his 
own burial service on the scaffold. 

Imagine this old, gray-haired minister standing on the fatal 
drop, about to be launched into eternity, repeating, with 
tremulous voice, the simple but beautiful words of his own 
funeral service. 

The witch-finder at last came to a miserable end. He 
was himself accused of being a wizard. He was seized one 
day and tied, just as his many victims had been, and dragged 
through a pond. Subjected to his own test, he sank, and 
that was the end of his long career of deception and wicked- 
ness. 

These facts, which we gather from a curious article on Hop- 
kins, are more dark and cruel than anything that happened 
in Salem, although even there an innocent man was pressed 
to death with weights because he would not acknowledge 
himself to be a wizard. 

In June (15th), 1648, the first execution for witchcraft 
took place in Boston. The victim was Margaret Jones. For 
her good offices in trying to heal the diseases of the people, 
she fell under suspicion and was hung. She was a doctor, 
and dealt in roots and herbs. We are told that her medicines 
" had extraordinary violent effects," not an uncommon re- 
sult of the use of botanic remedies. It was thought she had 
bewitched them. If she used lobelia or like plants freely in 
her prescriptions, as most "root and herb doctors" did in 
those days, we can easily see that the patients could hardly 
have believed that anything growing out of the earth could 
produce such surprising effects. We are further told that she 
would tell certain persons that they could never be healed, 
and these always grew worse. The same influence is quite 
noticeable to-day. Quacks succeed because they assure the 



1648. Margaret yones. 115 

patient of the cure. The imagination acting powerfully on 
the nervous system is one of the surest means of healing or 
destruction. 

After she had been imprisoned, we are told that " a little 
child was seen to run from her into another room, and, being 
followed by an officer, vanished." But this foolish story was 
not all. At her trial she told the witnesses against her that 
they lied, — an awful instance of depravity. She was ad- 
judged a witch, of course. How could such witnesses lie? 

But the trouble that these foolish accusations made did not 
end with the victim. Her husband, disheartened at the loss 
of his wife, took passage for Barbadoes. The ship lay in the 
harbor. One day she began to "roll," in calm weather; the 
effect of some undercurrent, perhaps. The sailors said that 
it was bewitched, and attributed it to the ghost of poor Mar- 
garet. The magistrates had Mr. Jones arrested and impris- 
oned, after which the ship was quiet. Margaret's ghost must 
have possessed wonderful physical power to cause a ship to 
"roll." 

Most extraordinary things were believed of witches. They 
could do anything through the power of the devil, who was 
their servant. On the day of the execution of Margaret 
Jones in Boston, there was a tempest in Connecticut, a not 
uncommon thing in June, and this was attributed to either 
the wrath of the devil at the execution, or his joy at securing 
poor Margaret's soul. 

If the reader will visit the Public Library and read Cotton 
Mather's "Magnalia," he will be amazed at the stories of gross 
superstition he will there find. How any man of intelligence 
could have for a moment credited such things as are there 
stated is a mystery hard to explain. To Mather's fancy un- 
seen evil spirits followed men like an army, and life was a 
deadly contest with dark inhabitants of the air. 

From time to time a supposed example of witchcraft dis~ 



u6 Young Folks History of Boston. 

turbed the peace of the colonies. In 1692 the delusion 
known as the Salem witchcraft began, and spread like a dis- 
ease. Among the victims were a number of unfortunate peo- 
ple of Boston. 

THE STORY OF OLD GOODY GLOVER. 

In 1688 the children of Mr. John Goodwin began to be- 
have very strangely. Their bodies were drawn out of shape, 
as in a case of rickets. Their tongues were sometimes drawn 
in out of sight, and at other times thrust out of their mouths. 
They evidently suffered from some nervous disease that spreads 
by imitation. 

They mewed like cats, and barked like dogs. We are told 
that they flew through the air like geese, which would indeed 
have seemed a proof of actual witchcraft if the statement had 
ended here. But it is added, " their toes barely touched the 
ground." They did touch the ground, you may be sure, and 
the flying part was all in the excited fancy of the witnesses. 

The parents said, "The children are bewitched." 

They called in excitable old Cotton Mather, whose love of 
the marvellous exceeded anything in colonial history. One 
of the children played a number of ungracious pranks upon 
him, as she found little difficulty in doing. 

She would read the Prayer-Book, but could not be induced 
to read the Bible, as though the Prayer-Book were for the 
most part anything but the Bible rearranged for public service. 
This pleased Cotton Mather, who was violently opposed to 
Episcopalianism, for he thought it indicated the manner in 
which the devil regarded the two books, which was quite in 
accordance with his own views. 

When the credulous minister showed his " Food for Babes," 
a religious book that he highly commended, and of course 
immensely superior in his own view to the Book of Common 




COTTON MATHER. 



i688. The Story of Goody Glover. 119 

Prayer, the child became silent. We do not wonder at 
this. The bewigged doctor was greatly pleased, and thought 
it an uncommon compliment, — did it not indicate the great 
displeasure of the devil with his " Food for Babes " ? 

The ministers of Boston and Charlestown held a fast at the 
house where the " bewitched " children lived, and one of the 
sufferers pretended to find relief from the occasion. 

There was an infirm old woman in the town, called Goody 
Glover. She was a Catholic, and the Puritans regarded Cath- 
olics with as much disfavor as the Catholics were wont in 
earlier times of history to regard them. 

This weak old woman had offended Dame Goodwin, and 
what more natural solution of the mystery could there be than 
that Goody Glover was a witch ? 

'•'She used threatening language to me," said Dame Good- 
win. 

Here was evidence indeed. Goody Glover was arrested. 

She was taken to jail, and her house was searched. 

They found dreadful things there, — those magistrates. 
There were images, or puppets, made of rags and covered 
with fur. 

They brought these into the court-room. 

She acknowledged that they were the implements of the 
devil. She said that she had only to stroke the fur on one 
of these rag babies, and something evil would happen. 

She took up one of them, and drew her hand across it, and 
just then one of the children who was present, and who ex- 
pected something evil to happen, fell down in a fit. 

Poor, weak, old woman ! They told her she was a witch, 
and she believed it. She confessed everything they wanted 
her to confess, even to an alliance with the Evil One. 

" Have you any one standing by you now? " asked one of 
the magistrates. 

" No," said she, peering into the air ; " he is gone." 



120 Young Folks History of Boston. 

"Who is gone?" 

" My prince." 

"What prince?" 

"The Evil One." 

Witnesses can always be found to testify against one ac- 
cused of crime. 

At the trial a witness appeared, by the name of Hughes. 
He testified that six years before Goody Glover had be- 
witched a woman to death. 

He was asked how he knew. 

" I have myself seen Goody Glover come down the chim- 
ney of the house where the woman lived." 

Goody Glover received little pity for her gray hairs after 
such testimony as that. Mather says he prayed with her, and 
adds, " If it were a fault it was an excess of pity." We fear 
" an excess of pity " was not one of Dr. Mather's besetting sins. 

Goody Glover was condemned and hung. We fancy we 
see her now, the poor old creature, followed by a jeering mob, 
and stretched up by her neck under the fair green leaves of 
the great tree on the Common. And this in our city only 
about two hundred years ago. 

The children continued to suffer after Goody was buried. 
Mather took one of them home with him. He tells us that 
an invisible horse was brought to her, and that she would 
ride on it about the room, and on one occasion rode upstairs. 
Just how large a horse it could have been to have carried a 
child up a flight of stairs in an old-time house he does not 
state. It was, however, an invisible horse. Probably the 
child in her nervous paroxysms pretended to canter about, 
after the manner of children at play. And her motion sug- 
gested the horse to the Doctor's vivid imagination, when it 
became to him a horse indeed. 

Cotton Mather regretted the part that he had acted in the 
witchcraft delusion before he died. But he said he was sincere 



i688. The Delusion brought to an End. 123 

in his belief at the time of his errors, and that he did what he 
thought to be his duty as a conscientious man. 

During the prevalence of this moral disease, nineteen per- 
sons in the colony were hanged ; one was pressed to death ; 
one hundred and fifty were thrown into prison, and some two 
hundred accused. 

One Martha Corey, when visited in prison by Mr. Parris 
and other clergymen, rebuked her persecutors in language of 
terrible sternness, and was excommunicated before being 
hanged. Mary Easty, who is said to have been a woman of 
deep piety, and of a very sweet disposition, conscious of her 
innocence, firmly denounced the cruelty and falseness of the 
testimony upon which she and others had been condemned 
to death, and petitioned her judges and the ministers to make 
further inquiry, not into her own case, but into those of the 
others, that no more innocent blood might be shed, for, said 
she, " I know you are in the wrong way." 

You will ask, " What brought it to an end ? " 

In the beginning, only the poor, the infirm, and unfor- 
tunate were accused of witchcraft. As the delusion spread, 
people in better estate began to be accused. At last the 
governor's wife 1 was accused. Every household then was 
filled with terror. 

The magistrates began to whisper among themselves, 
" Some of our families may be accused." 

Then they began to doubt if, indeed, there were witches. 

" What credit is to be given to the spectre testimony? " was 
asked in the court one day, after the leading families began to 
be in danger. 

" None whatever," said the judge. 

If this had been the decision at the beginning, no one 
would have been sacrificed. It was spectre testimony that 
produced these evils, and nothing else. 

1 Mrs. Phipps. 



124 Young Folks History of Boston. 

When this spectre testimony began to threaten the homes of 
the magistrates, the executions for witchcraft ceased. 

The sad story of witchcraft "in New England shows that 
o-ood men may entertain wrong opinions, and, if their 
opinions are wrong, their conduct will be wrong. Men of 
greater virtue than these magistrates never lived. Each of 
them would have sacrificed his life, rather than have done an 
act of dishonor. Like Saul, when persecuting the church, 
they thought they were maintaining truth. 

In ancient times in the Hebrew nations there were witches. 
They dealt in poisons ; they had " familiar spirits ; " they en- 
gaged in dark plots .; were the accessaries of crime, and thus 
dangerous to the community. The Bible said to the 
Hebrews : " Suffer not a witch to live." Endicott and his 
followers attempted to govern the colony by the Levitical 
law. They misinterpreted the Scripture. They applied 
" Suffer not a witch to live " to any unfortunate old creature 
whom an enemy or child might accuse. They did it all to 
sustain a pure morality. It was a terrible error. Never do 
anything for the cause of virtue or religion, the influence of 
which is against virtue and religion, and if you must act 
severely for the sake of justice, be sure your opinions are 
correct. 

THE OLD ELM ON BOSTON COMMON. 

Among the historic trees in this country, perhaps none have 
had so great prominence as the Old Elm on Boston Com- 
mon, on which, it is supposed, condemned witches were 
hung. It was almost the only well-preserved living relic of 
early colonial times, and historically was as famous as the 
Royal Oak was in England. Boston Common, on which it 
stood, is, even apart from its historic associations, one of the 
most delightful places in New England. 




THE OLD ELM. 



i6 3 i. The Old Elm. 



127 



It is full of quiet beauties, with its shaded walks, play- 
ground, deer-park, fountains, birds, and grand old trees. 

Some of these trees antedate the city's charter. They were 
planted by hands that long ago crumbled to dust ; and the 
Old Elm broke ground while Boston was yet Shawmut, an 
Indian village, situated on three bare hills, with the smoke- 
wreaths of its conical wigwams crowning their summits. 
This was the Great Tree, as it was called one hundred years 
ago, but was afterwards known as the Old Elm. 

It grew green in spring, and golden in autumn, through all 
the green springs and golden autumns of New England's early 
history. The tree was the true American elm, so much ad- 
mired for its spreading shade, its massive foliage, and drooping, 
roof-like limbs. It was seventy-two feet high, and twenty-three 
feet six inches in circumference at the base. 

This cherished relic stood nearly in the centre of the Com- 
mon, at the edge of the rising ground, where was placed the 
old Liberty Pole, of historic fame. It was surrounded by an 
iron fence, on the gate of which is the following inscrip- 
tion : — 

11 This tree has been standi7ig here for an unknown period. 
It is believed to have existed before the settlement of Boston, 
being full grown in 1722. Exhibited marks of old age in 1792, 
and was nearly destroyed by a stor?n in 1832. Protected by an 
enclosure in 1854. 

"J. V. C. Smith, Mayor." 

Near where the Old Elm stood is the Frog Pond, also of 
historic fame. It does not look now as it did when the 
British soldiers prevented the boys from sliding and skating 
there, and the delegation of young Americans waited upon 
General Gage, and laid before him the story of their wrongs. 
It is now surrounded by a granite margin, and is shaded by 
young trees. In the pleasant summer and autumn weather a 
spreading fountain throws its sparkling jets of water far above 



128 Young Folks History of Boston. 

its surface. But in winter it is still a skating pond, as in the 
old Revolutionary days. 

On the rising ground near the Old Elm stood the old 
Powder-house. There also was fought the first duel in Bos- 
ton. The victim of the unfortunate combat was a young 
man, twenty years of age, whose grave may yet be seen in 
Granary Burying-ground, near the Tremont House. His 
antagonist fled to Rochelle, France, where he died of a 
broken heart. 

The historical associations of the Old Elm would fill a 
volume, like that of Hawthorne's " Grandfather's Chair," 
and a very interesting volume it might be made. 

Shawmut, the Indian name of the promontory on which 
a part of Boston stands, was very barren of trees. The Old 
Elm, being the most conspicuous tree in the time of our fore- 
fathers, was used for the purpose of executions. Tradition 
tells us that Indian prisoners were executed there. 

The story of the Indian wars does not form a part of 
the history of Boston. The town was never attacked by 
the Indians. But the people were often terrified by the 
massacres of the settlers by the Indians in other places, 
and in neighboring towns. Hostile Indians were sometimes 
believed to be approaching, but such reports were false alarms. 

But while Boston did not suffer from the Indians, many 
noted Indians were brought here for execution. Philip's 
great warrior, Annawon, was one of these. 

We have no space to tell all of the interesting historical 
traditions of the Indian troubles which are associated with the 
old tree. The stories of old Matoonas, of Sagamore Sam, and 
the Sagamore Quabaog, are among the most interesting of an 
early date. 

The story of old Jethro is, perhaps, less known than most 
of the others that have been related in connection with the 
ancient elm. This Indian was among the first to attach him- 




A FALSE ALARM. 



1674- The Story of Old Jethro, 131 

self to the interests of the English at Boston. He possessed 
more than ordinary intelligence. Under the teaching of the 
English, he professed to have embraced Christianity, and 
associated himself with the praying, men of his tribe. His 
Indian name, Tantamous, was changed by the colonists after 
he became associated with them. 

In 1674 he was appointed missionary to the Nipmucks, 
living at Weshakin, since Sterling. 

On Sunday, Aug. 22, 1675, tne colony was startled by 
the murder of a family, consisting of a man, his wife, and two 
children, at Lancaster. It was evident that the deed had been 
done by Indians ; and the praying Indians, of whom old 
Jethro was one, fell under suspicion. Captain Mosely, their 
principal accuser, found " much suspicion against them for 
singing, dancing, and having much powder and many bullets 
and slugs hid in their baskets." 

For this offence, eleven of them, among whom was old 
Jethro, were sent to Boston to be tried. 

Captain Mosely seems to have been a.stern man, who used 
relentlessly the ordinary modes of torture common in those 
days. One of the Indians, named David, he bound to a tree. 
Then guns were levelled at him, and his life was threatened, 
unless he made a full confession. The Indian, to save his 
life, accused the "praying Indians" of the murder, and 
among them was old Jethro. 

There is an island near Boston, dividing the sea as it 
flows into the harbor, called Deer Island, and to this the ac- 
cused Indians were sent. A short time after the real per- 
petrator of the Lancaster murder was discovered, and the 
complete innocence of the "praying Indians" proved. They 
were released, and it will hardly accord with our modern 
ideas of penalty when we state that David, who had made 
the false confession to save his life, was sold into slavery as 
a punishment for the act. 



132 Young Folks History of Boston. 

About a year afterward the Indian hostilities were resumed, 
and the English resolved to send the " praying Indians/' 
among the most prominent of whom was old Jethro, to Deer 
Island, both for their own security and to keep them away from 
any temptation to join the enemy. The men who were sent 
to take them to the island were very overbearing in their con- 
duct, and so insulted old Jethro that he escaped while, on the 
way, and fled into his native wilds. His hiding-place was at 
last discovered to the English by his own son, Peter Jethro, 
an act which caused Increase Mather to say, " that abomi- 
nable Indian, Peter Jethro, betrayed his own father unto 
death." 

Old Jethro was captured and brought to Boston. He was 
tried and sentenced to be hanged. 

It was Sept. 26, 1676, when the first colorings of au- 
tumn were on the leaves. The Old Elm then stood at the 
" end of the town," near the waters of the Charles River, 
whose marshes, covered deep with earth, are now occupied 
by costly houses. The tree was in its full strength and beauty 
then, and we can imagine its low branches, with their tinged 
leaves, spreading themselves over the lonely hollow. Here 
old Jethro was hanged, according to tradition. 

During the Revolution effigies of Tories were hanged upon 
the branches of the tree. A young tree has been planted on 
the spot where the Old Elm stood, and stands in the same 
enclosure. 

It is not certain that all the executions that old-time stories 
associate with the tree actually took place there. Other trees 
may have been used for such a purpose, and there seems to 
have been a gallows erected there during the colonial period. 
Of this we shall give a sad story in another chapter. 




INCREASE MATHER. 



" Here rest tlie great and good, — here they repose 
After their generous toil. A sacred band, 
They take their sleep together, while the year 
Comes with its early flowers to deck their graves, 
And gathers them again, as winter frowns. 
Theirs is no vulgar sepulchre, — green sods 
Are all their monument ; and yet it tells 
A nobler history than pillared piles, 
Or the eternal pyramids. They need 
No statue nor inscription to reveal 
Their greatness It is round them ; and the joy 
With which their children tread the hallowed ground 
That holds their venerated bones, the peace 
That smiles on all they fought for, and the wealth 
That clothes the land they rescued, — these, though mute 
As feeling ever is when deepest, — these 
Are monuments more lasting than the fanes 
Reared to the kings and demigods of old." 

J. G. PERCIVAt,. 



CHAPTER VIII. 

WHEREIN IS SHOWN HOW THE COLONY BECAME A 

PROVINCE. 

The picture on the next page represents one of the most 
popular governors under the charter that the colony ever 
had, — John Leverett. He was governor from 1673 to 1678, 
and he rendered efficient aid to Plymouth Colony in the strug- 
gle with the Indians, known as King Philip's War. He, too, 
was born in Old Boston, and was one of the congregation of 
St. Botolph's. He returned to England for a time during the 
Commonwealth, and was on intimate terms with Cromwell. 
His house stood at the corner of Court and Washington 
Streets, where the Sears Building now stands. 

In 1679 there was a great fire in Boston. Eighty dwelling- 
houses and seventy warehouses were consumed. The peo- 
ple now began to build of brick. Some of these brick houses 
at the North End may still be seen. 

Perhaps you would like a view of some of the houses of 
Boston during the early colonial period. Here is the old 
Feather Store, built in 1680, and taken down in i860. It 
stood in Dock Square. 

There is a very ancient wooden house in Salem Street, 
which at the time we write (1881) may still be seen. 

About the year 1676, just one hundred years before the 
Declaration of Independence, the people of Massachusetts 
Bay Colony began to be alarmed at the prospect of losing 
their charter, and with it their liberties. 



133 



Young Folks History of Boston. 



Charles II. was now on the throne. He had been pro- 
claimed king in Boston in 1661 with much public ceremony. 
A writer of the times thus describes the scene : " After our 




GOVERNOR LEVERETT. 



ordinary lecture, the soldiers being all in arms, viz., our four 
companies and the country troop, the magistrates mounted 
on horseback, the ministers being present, and a great num- 
ber of people, King Charles II. was proclaimed by Edward 



i66i. 



Charles II. 



141 



Rawson, secretary of state, all standing with uncovered heads, 
and ending with ' God save the king.' The guns in the 
castle, fort, and on the ships were fired, and the chief officers 
feasted that night at the charge of the country." 




CHARLES II. 



The people under the charter were very independent. 
They elected their own governor and members to the General 
Court, and the government of the colony was but little differ- 



142 Young Folks History of Boston. 

ent from that of the state to-day. The colonists were sub- 
jects of the English Crown in name, but in reality were the 
masters of their own public affairs. 

Under the reign of Charles II. an attempt was made to 
impose the English laws of trade upon the colony. The 
magistrates resisted. They said : " Such acts are an invasion 
of the colony's rights, since we are not represented in par- 
liament." Thus was begun the resistance to a government 
without representation, which in one hundred years resulted 
in the independence of the colonies. 

In 1680 King Charles gave the province of Maine to Sir 
Ferdinando Gorges. The government of Massachusetts soon 
afterwards purchased it of Gorges, thus exercising the right of 
an independent power. This brought the colony under the 
displeasure of the king. 

About this time there appeared a man in the colony whom 
the people came to hate. Hawthorne has given a very dark 
picture of him in the " Legends of the Province House." 
Perhaps you may like to take down from your library shelf 
"Twice Told Tales," and read in this connection "Edward 
Randolph's Portrait." 

Randolph has been called " the evil genius of New Eng- 
land." He was an enemy to the Puritan idea of government, 
a firm friend of King Charles, and he crossed the ocean again 
and again, bearing evil reports to the king, and making mis- 
chief as often as he came and went. Randolph made many 
complaints to the king, but some of them were reasonable. 
He said the Puritans tolerated no religion but their own, and 
that they had even enacted a law against the observance of 
Christmas. 

The controversy was a long one. The colonists would not 
surrender their rights under the charter. Said Increase 
Mather, one of the principal men of the colony : " If we 
make a submission, we fall into the hands of men ; but if we 




SIR EDMOND ANDROS. 



1685. How the Colony became a Province. 145 

do not, we still keep ourselves in the hand of God." The 
king sent commissioners to the colony, but their authority was 
ignored. In his remonstrance against the treatment of his 
commissioners, the king said : " In opposition to our au- 
thority, it was proclaimed by the sound of the trumpet within 
the town of Boston that the General Court was the Supreme 
Judicature in that Province." It was, certainly, the wish of 
the colony that the General Court, or Legislature, should be 
the governing power. 

The king, finding his efforts to regulate the affairs of the 
colony under the old charter fruitless, at last lost patience, 
and determined to take the charter away. He sent Randolph 
to Boston with a letter, which thus pronounced the doom of 
liberty. He said : " We are fully resolved in Trinity term 
next ensuing, to direct our Attorney- General to bring a Quo- 
Warranto in our Court of King's Bench, whereby our charter 
granted unto you, with all the powers thereof, may be legally 
evicted and made void. And so we bid you farewell." 

In 1684 the charter of Charles I., which had left the govern- 
ment of the colony almost wholly to the people, was rolled up 
and put away, a precious, but worthless, piece of parchment. 

What next ? 

Charles II. died on the 6th of February, 1685. He has 
been called the " Merry Monarch." His life was de- 
voted to pleasure. It is said that when the Dutch fleet was 
threatening the very gates of London, sailing proudly up the 
Thames, the king was attending a party at Lady Castlemaine's, 
and was amusing his favorites by chasing a moth that had 
strayed into the house. 

James II. succeeded Charles. He was a Catholic. Pro- 
testant England had little love for him, and New England 
had none ; but it was under him that Massachusetts was 
compelled to tolerate all religious beliefs. Strange as it may 
seem, it was thus that the Episcopal Church sprang into life 
in Boston. 



146 Young Folks History of Boston. 

James appointed a provisional government for the colony, 
and commissioned Joseph Dudley as president. Dudley was 
soon succeeded by Sir Edmund Andros, who was appointed 
viceroy of all the New England colonies. He was a haughty, 
brusque, choleric man, bigoted, and determined to crush out 
the spirit of independence in New England, wherever it might 
be found. 

The Boston people hated Andros, and were ripe for revolt. 
Early in the spring of 1689 news was received that William, 
Protestant Prince of Orange, who had married the Princess 
Mary, had landed in England, and driven James from the 
throne. Boston was filled with joy, and Andros was smitten 
with chagrin. He issued a proclamation, charging the people 
to hold themselves in readiness to resist any forces that the 
Prince of Orange might send. But the people raised a com- 
pany of men for quite a different purpose. These seized 
Andros, and made him their prisoner. King William soon 
ordered that Andros and Randolph should be sent to Eng- 
land, and the people were glad to have them go. 

In 1692 a new charter was granted the colony, and Sir 
William Phips was appointed governor by the Crown. 

Under the new charter, the governor was to be appointed 
by the king, and he was to have the appointment of all mili- 
tary officers. The General Court was to be elected by the 
people, as formerly, but the governor could prorogue it, and 
no act was to be valid without his consent. No money 
could be paid from the public treasury except upon his war- 
rant, approved by his council. This new charter brought the 
government of the colony directly under the power of the 
king. 

So the colony became a province, and thus remained for 
nearly one hundred years. 

This is a sad history, and this chapter is not an interesting 
one. We hope you may find the next more entertaining. 




GOVERNOR ANDROS A PRISONER. 



" 'T is sweet to remember ! When storms are abroad, 
We see in the rainbow the promise of God : 
The day may be darkened, — but far in the west, 
In vermilion and gold, sinks the sun to his rest ; 
With smiles like the morning he passeth away : 
Thus the beams of delight on the spirit can play, 
When in calm reminiscence we gather the flowers 
Which Love scattered round us in happier hours." 

W. G. Clark. 



CHAPTER IX. 

WHEREIN ARE TOLD SOME STORIES OF OLD COLONY 

TIMES. 

In few communities have such marvellous stories been 
told as in the Massachusetts Bay Colony in the days of 
John Cotton and the Mathers. The reader will readily 
believe this if he will consult Mather's u Magnalia," or the 
"Wonders of the Invisible World." But these stories, for 
the most part, were associated with Indians, ghosts, and 
awful judgments. Many families had escapes from Indians 
to relate. All had their ghost stories. Instead of the " Ara- 
bian Nights " wonder tales, or fairy stories, incidents like the 
Indian attack at Bloody Brook, or like the Salem witches, 
made the young shudder, as they left the evening fireside for 
the cold, dark chamber. 

There were, however, some fireside stories other than those 
of Indians and ghosts. We give a few of them here. 

THE STORY OF NIX'S MATE. 

There lies a low, black island in the harbor, treeless, 
shrubless, herbless. There is no green thing upon it, not 
so much as a weed. The very sea-mosses seem to have 
forsaken it. The sea dashes upon it incessantly, wearing it 
away, and it seems to grow blacker, and certainly does 
become smaller, every year. 




152 Young Folks History of Boston. 

The excursionists pass it on the bright summer days, as the 
gay boats drop down to Nahant, Nantasket, Downer Land- 
ing, Hull, and Hingham. The ocean passengers see it as 
they leave the havened waters, dotted with islands, for the 
open sea. Strangers look at the black pyramid that stands 
upon it and warns the pilot, and ask, — 

"What is that?" 
"That," says the old Bosto- 
nian, " is Nix's Mate." 

The stranger thanks his in- 
formant, but does not quite 
understand. The strip of rock 
and the pyramid are so black 

, and so mysterious, that they hold 

nix's mate. j ' J 

his eye, as the boat glides on 
amid the summer towns and the green isles on either side. 

The black island was green once, like other islands in the 
harbor. It was a place of execution for pirates. The island 
was selected for this purpose, because the sea robber, dangling 
in air, in his chains, could be seen by all the sailors as they 
passed into or out of the harbor. It must have been a grim 
sight, with the wind whistling around the gibbet. 

There was in the early days of the colony a ship-master, 
named Nix. He was mysteriously murdered, and his body 
was buried on this island, more than two hundred years ago, 
when the island was green. His mate was accused of the 
murder, and was sentenced to be hanged. He declared 
his innocence. 

When the time for execution came, he said, — 

" I am not guilty of the crime with which I am charged. 
Before God, I did not the deed. God bear witness of my 
innocence. That the people may know that I am a guiltless 
man, may this island wholly disappear ! " 

He was executed, and soon the sailors began to say, — 



1678. The Story of Rebecca Raivson. 155 

"The island is withering. Nix's mate was an innocent 
man." 

Time passed, and the people said, — 

"The green earth has been washed away, and only the 
rocks remain. Nix's mate was surely an innocent man." 

A century passed, and the hard rocks themselves seemed 
slowly shrinking away, under the action of the sea, and the 
old story-tellers told the new generation that the island was 
disappearing, as a witness to the innocence of Nix's mate. 

" The mate murdered Nix 
And was executed, 
And, though the fact 
Seems much disputed, 

" He informed his friends 
Both far and near, 
Were he innocent the island 
Would disappear. 

" The island is gone; 
And the mate is free 
Of this cruel charge 
Made by history." 

THE STORY OF REBECCA RAWSON. 

The Puritan communities had their romances that, as in the 
case of gayer societies, became fireside tales. The Charlotte 
Temple of Boston, although her history has never been made 
the subject of a popular novel, was Rebecca Rawson. 

Her father, Edward Rawson, was a distinguished man in 
the colony, and was for a long time secretary to the General 
Court. For thirty-six years his name appears in all the prin- 
cipal legal affairs of the colony. He died in 1693. 

He lived on a pleasant, green street, called Rawson's Lane. 
It is now Bromfield Street. 



156 Young Folks History of Boston, 

To his home the noblest men in the colony came, and there 
the most eminent visitors from abroad were sometimes enter- 
tained. 

It was a pleasant neighborhood. Near it was the Winthrop 
House, where the Old South Church now stands, with its 
beautiful garden and flowing spring. The stately mansion, 
afterwards bought for the Province House, was near, with its 
broad yard and bowery trees. The new King's Chapel, then 
a wooden building, was but a few steps away, and where are 
now blocks and warehouses, on Tremont and Washington 
and Winter and School Streets, were green lawns, and behind 
the fine houses rose three hills, two of which have since been 
almost levelled, and cast into the sea, to make new land. 

Secretary Rawson had a daughter, who was the delight of 
his home. Her name was Rebecca. She was famous for her 
loveliness and accomplishments. She received great attention 
from society, and young men sought her hand in marriage. 

Sometime about the year 1678 there came to the colony a 
fascinating young man, who said he was the nephew of Lord 
Chief Justice Hale, of England. He claimed to be a knight, 
and was known as " Sir Thomas Hale." He was invited to 
the house of the Colonial Secretary, and there met the lovely 
Rebecca. He pretended to be enamored of her, and she re- 
turned his proffered affection with girlish trust and simplicity. 

There was much rejoicing in the town when the wedding 
of " Sir Thomas " and Rebecca Rawson was announced. All 
were glad that the Secretary's beautiful daughter was to be 
connected with the wealthy and powerful English family. 

Secretary Rawson, as was the custom of wealthy men of the 
period, gave the bride a rich outfit. Full of happiness, and 
with the most glowing anticipations, Rebecca left with her 
husband for England. 

The ship had no sooner arrived in London than the bride- 
groom disappeared. The endowment that the Colonial 




CHARLES CHASING THE MOTH. 



1692. The Story of Rebecca Rawson. 159 

Secretary had bestowed upon his daughter, to make her 
suited to her high position, was carried away by him. Rebecca 
Rawson found herself among strangers, deserted, and with 
the dreadful suspicion she had been deceived. 

Days of grief and crushing disappointment followed. She 
found that the man whom she had married was not a knight 
at all, but a mere adventurer, and that he had a deserted wife 
still living in Canterbury. 

A child was born to her. Hope almost faded out of her 
young life. Her beauty withered, but her youthful pride 
remained. 

Should she return to Boston ? No ; she said in her heart 
she could not do that. She could not meet her family and 
old friends, with the story of her great disappointment. 

The abandoned wife, and the daughter of the rich and 
honored Provincial Secretary, determined to support herself 
and child by the industry of her own hands. She was skilled 
in needlework and painting, and by these arts she lived for 
some thirteen years. 

But the memory of her old home in the bowery town 
haunted her j the thought of her father, whose hair was now 
whitening with years, led her affections back over the sea. 
She resolved to return. 

She embarked for Boston in a ship bound thither by the 
way of the West Indies. She arrived safely at Port Royal, in 
Jamaica. Being ready to proceed on the voyage, the ship 
again was preparing to spread sails to the winds. 

It was a day in June, 1692. The sun had arisen, glim- 
mering in splendor over the thin mists of the ocean. Suddenly 
a subterranean thundering began. The crust of the earth was 
upheaved and shaken. There was a great vortex in the sea, 
and into this the ship was drawn, and went down to deeps 
unknown. Such was the melancholy history and sad end of 
Rebecca Rawson. Her father died soon after receiving the 



160 Young Folks History of Boston. 

news of the loss of the ship in the great earthquake at 
Jamaica. 

THE FIRST DUEL. 

Some years ago we used to linger in summer-time under 
the delicious shade of the old Paddock elms that once stood 
on Tremont Street, in front of an ancient historic enclosure, 
called the Granary Burying-ground. The sights and scenes 
of the city were new to us, and we loved to watch the tide 
of travel that incessantly poured through the busy avenue. 

Near the iron fence stands an old gravestone, whose in- 
scription can be read from the street, and that used to be not 
unfrequently deciphered by people waiting for the horse-cars, 
under the elms. It is as follows : — 

" Here lies the body of Benjamin Woodbridge, son of Hon. 
Dudley Woodbridge, who died July 3, 1728, in the twentieth 
year of his age." 

We have already alluded to young Woodbridge. He 
was the son of a wealthy gentleman in Barbadoes, and was 
sent to Harvard College to be educated. He seems to have 
had an ardent, kindly nature, spirited, social, and keenly sus- 
ceptible to friendship. He had an intimate friend by the name 
of Samuel Phillips, a graduate of the college, and connected 
with the best colonial families. 

Never did life open with fairer prospects before two young 
men. But their warm, social nature led them to the gaming- 
table, and gambling to the free use of wine, and their lives 
were suddenly eclipsed by an act that sent a thrill of excite- 
ment and terror through the town of Boston. 

A dispute arose between them, and young Phillips killed 
Woodbridge in a duel on Boston Common, on a summer's 
night in July, more than one hundred and fifty years ago. 



1676. John Shenhan. 161 

Phillips, conscience-smitten, fled to Rochelle, France, 
that charming city of the waters. He sought to gratify his 
aesthetic taste amid historic scenes ; but neither the refine- 
ments of art nor the morning and evening splendors of the 
bay could efface the memory of the stain of blood. He 
died of a broken heart exactly one year from the death of 
his victim. 

The Puritans made mistakes at times, but -their principles 
were in the main correct. Had that young man learned the 
principles of the good people about him, and practised them, 
his gravestone would have had a different date. We have 
often recalled, as we have seen a young man beginning a 
course of dissipation, this solitary grave here, and another 
in far Rochelle. 

JOHN SHENHAN. 

A STORY OF 1676. 

" O Johnny, my boy, be spry ! Don't you see 
The morning sun hangs o'er the vale of the Lee ? 
Hear the birds singing sweet in the tops of the trees, 
And the bells of old Cork swinging light in the breeze. 

Johnny, O Johnny, you are dear unto me, 
But an idler lad ne'er was seen on the Lee." 

"O mither, ne'er mind, for my spirit is bold, 
And I'm going away to the country of gold. 

1 long on the breast of the billows to rock, 
And sink in the ocean the harbor of Cork. 
O mither, be aisy, for soon you will see 

Of me nothing more in the vale of the Lee." 

" O Johnny, be steady, and listen no more 
To the tales that they tell in the inn on the shore. 
Be honest and steady, and you will find gold 
In Ireland's soil. My boy, I am old. 
My hair is fast changing ; hey, boy, don't you see ? 
Oh, stay wi' me here in the vale of the Lee." 
11 



1 62 Young Folks History of Boston. 

He sat with his mother that eve 'neath the tree, 
The moon hanging low on the wave of the Lee. 
" Oh, stay wi' me, boy, and ne'er mind the gold ! " 
" I'll come back to ye, mither, to cheer ye when old." 
He kissed her next morn on an ocean-swept rock, 
And sunk in the ocean the harbor of Cork. 

He worked a hard passage across the wide main, 
Till hilltops arose from the ocean again, — 
Till a town in the wilderness glanced on the seas 
From three beautiful heights overshadowed with trees. 
He hailed the new land with a shout of delight, 
And slept in the inn near the harbor that night. 

He arose the next morn with a gold -haunted brain, 
He walked near the town in a sun-sprinkled lane ; 
He saw the new houses uplifting their walls, 
And the cottages cool on the banks of the Charles ; 
And he saw, dismal sight ! with a shudder of pain, 
The gallows that hung mid the trees in the lane. 

He at last met a Puritan, stately and old, 
And asked him the way to the region of gold. 
"By the sweat of thy brow," the grave Puritan said, 
And he looked on the boy with a shake of the head. 
And all that he questioned the same story told 
Of the Puritan way to the region of gold. 

Time passed ; he worked hard, with a resolute will, 

But felt the sharp pinches of poverty still. 

His language was thick ; they were loath to employ 

At wages, like others, the poor Irish boy. 

And Johnny grew heavy at heart in the end, 

And wished, but in vain, for a pitying friend. 

'T was June — a calm night — the moon hung o'er the walls 
Of the houses that stood on the banks of the Charles. 
It silvered the lane and the pastures beyond ; 
It silvered the roses that margined the pond ; 
It silvered the ringlets of Johnny's light hair, 
As he sat 'neath the elm in the cool summer air. 




OLD TIME COURTESIES, 



1676. JoJm ShenJian. 165 

O Johnny Shenhan, what 's the matter with thee ? 
Are thy thoughts far away on the banks of the Lee ? 
Oh, why dost thou start at each step passing by V 
And why does that stealthy look fall from thy eye ? 
He leans his young brow on his trembling palms, 
And hears in the distance the music of psalms. 

He creeps towards a house, — it stands on the hill, 
The windows are open, the rooms are all still. 
On the top of the desk there are papers unrolled, 
In the till of the desk, it may be, there is gold. 
He climbs through the casement, he opens the till, 
Then flies like a ghost o'er the brow of the hill. 

Gold ! gold ! he has gold, but, his innocence gone, 
Sleep flies from his eyes and he trembles till morn. 
He has gained what was never a Shenhan's before, 
He has lost what eternity cannot restore. 
No lad in the town is as wretched as he, 
He wishes him back in the vale of the Lee. 

When the moonlight again on the summer trees fell, 

It reached not poor Johnny, — he lay in a cell. 

He was brought into court, the men held their breath, 

While the judge pronounced slowly his sentence, — 'twas death ! 

He stood like one smitten, tears rolled from his face 

And he bitterly said as he turned from the place, — 

" My sentence is hard, oh, how dreadful to bear ! 
But, sheriff, 't is less for myself that I care 
Than for her who looks out from the ocean-swept rock 
For the sails that come home to the harbor of Cork ! 
Oh, the ships will come back o'er the foam-covered sea, 
But bring not her boy to the vale of the Lee ! " 

*T was autumn, — a coolness came down with the breeze, 
The gold and vermilion hung light on the trees, 
The scaffold was ready, — it stood where to-day 
The boys of the city have freedom to play, 
O'erlooking the Common, o'erlooking the pond, 
O'erlooking the river that rippled beyond. 



1 66 



Young Folks History of Boston. 



A multitude gathered, as people now go 

To see the odd sights at a fair or a show, 

And Johnny was brought, — he looked on the air, 

And the river that rolled in the full sunlight there, 

He looked on the faces upturned like a sea, 

And his thought wandered back to the vale of the Lee. 

le Forgive me," he said, and the tears gathered fast 
When he saw that the hour of man's mercy was past, 
"Though just is the sentence my error receives, 
'T is hard to die thus while a poor mother lives. 
The ships will return o'er the fair sunny sea, 
And a heart will be broke in the vale of the Lee." 




elder brewster's chair. 



" What constitutes a state ? 
Not high-raised battlements, or labored mound, 

Thick wall, or moated gate ; 
Not cities proud, with spires and turrets crowned, 

Not bays and broad-armed ports, 
Where, laughing at the storm, proud navies ride; 

Not starred and spangled courts, 
Where low-browed baseness wafts perfume to pride ! 
No ! — men, — high-minded men, — 
Men who their duties know, 
But know their rights, and, knowing, dare maintain." 



CHAPTER X. 

WHEREIN IS GIVEN SOME ACCOUNT OF THE TIMES 
OF THE ELEVEN ROYAL GOVERNORS AND OF THE 
OLD PROVINCE HOUSE. 

These were the days of Queen Anne and the Georges. 

The democratic governors of the golden age of the charter 
were gone, — Winthrop, Sir Henry Vane, Dudley, Endicott, 
Haynes, Bellingham, Leverett, — and with them the republi- 
canism of half a hundred years. A new period of growth and 
prosperity was at hand, but with it came a struggle against 
the encroachments of a foreign power, that lasted nearly a 
century before blood was spilt. It was a brilliant period of 
progress, education, thrifty industry, and religious develop- 
ment, — that of the eleven royal governors. 

These governors were : — 

Sir William Phips, Jonathan Belcher, 

Richard, Earl of Bellomont, William Shirley, 

Joseph Dudley. Thomas Pownall, 

Samuel Shute, Sir Francis Bernard, 

William Barnet, Thomas Hutchinson, 

Gen. Thomas Gage. 

The period of growth under political repression, during 
which the colony was subject to the vice-regal power of 
these eleven governors, lasted from 1692 to the Revolution, 
or more than eighty years. It began under the reign of 



170 Young Folks' History of Boston. 

William and Mary, and continued through the reigns of Queen 
Anne, George I., George II., and a part of that of George 
III. 

The first of these governors had a very wonderful history. 



THE STORY OF SIR WILLIAM PHIPS, AND HIS GREAT GOOD 

FORTUNE. 

William Phips was a poor boy. He rose to eminence by 
energy of character, but was helped by a series of fortunate 
circumstances that make his life read like a romance in which 
some magic power leads an ambitious adventurer to caverns 
of gold. 

The first statement to be made in his biography is different 
from any other we have ever seen. He was one of a family 
of twenty-one sons, and of twenty-six children born to the 
same mother. Families were very large in old colony times. 
His father was James Phips, a blacksmith, and an early 
settler in the woods of Maine. He little dreamed while 
working to support his large family in the wilderness of the 
Kennebec that one of his sons would become the first man 
in the country in wealth and position, and wear the star of 
knighthood. 

William was born Feb. 2, 1651, and soon after his birth 
his father died. We know nothing about the other members 
of the family except their astonishing number. He tended 
sheep amid wolves and savages until he was eighteen years 
of age, and his education was confined to the. stories of the 
foresters alone. 

But he had in him that restless energy which, rightly di- 
rected, leads to success. He learned how to build coasters 
on the Kennebec, and he began to make voyages in them. 
It was a profitable business, and proved the beginning of the 
great shipbuilding industry of Maine. 




QUEEN ANNE. 



1692. The Story of Sir William Phips. 173 

Young Phips now began to hear of the great world, 
and to have visions of wealth and greatness. He came 
to Boston at the age of twenty-two. Here he learned to 
read and to write his name. He married a widow who had 
once been in comfortable circumstances, but had lost her 
property. 

"Never you mind," he said, "we will have a fair brick 
house in the Green Lane of North Boston some day." 

The Green Lane was the Beacon Street of Boston then. 

He went back to Maine and engaged in shipbuilding. 
Sailors told him exciting stories of sunken treasures in the 
Spanish Main. One of these stories of a sunken treasure - 
ship was known to be true. 

Could she not be recovered ? 

Could he not recover her ? 

If so, wealth untold would be his ! • 

Dreaming of gold he went to London and applied to the 
Admiralty for the use of an eighteen-gun ship, for the pur- 
pose of bringing up the lost treasure-ship. It was granted 
him. He went to Bahama. From an old Spaniard he 
learned the precise spot where the galleon had foundered 
nearly a half-century before. This was the only fruit of his 
first voyage. 

He returned to England full of glittering visions and asked 
for a better outfit. The Duke of Albemarle provided him 
with vessels. In this voyage he beheld in reality the prize of 
the sea. He fished up its bullion from the rocks to the value 
of more than $1,500,000, in gold, silver, and precious stones. 
He returned to England in triumph, and was hailed as a 
hero. He was knighted. Lady Phips was presented with 
a gold cup worth $5,000. 

He was made governor of the Colony of Massachusetts in 
1692, and he and Lady Phips did indeed occupy a " fair 
brick house in the Green Lane." 



174 Young Folks' History of Boston. 

In 1697 Richard Coote, Earl of Bellomont, an Irish peer, 
was appointed governor. He came to Boston at the close of 
the century, in 1699. New England contained a population 
of about seventy-five thousand at this time. He was a 
popular governor. He died in 1701. 

He was succeeded by Joseph Dudley, son of Thomas 
Dudley of the times of Winthrop. He was an unpopular gov- 
ernor. He had difficulties with the Mather family, and came 
to be held in general ill esteem. Having been intimate with 
Andros and Randolph, he was believed to be too fully in 
sympathy with the English policy of denying the rights of the 
people to shape the government of their own affairs. He 
tried to compel the General Court to pay him a salary, which 
it refused to do. The Court had made the former governors 
" presents," and as they had been very accommodating, these 
presents had been liberal. To the Earl of Bellomont had been 
given ^1,875. But the Court allowed Dudley but £600 a 
year. Governor Shute, who succeeded him, was even less 
appreciated, for he was allowed but ,£360. 

The royal governors occupied the Province House, a stately 
mansion with a broad lawn filled with noble trees, which stood 
nearly opposite the Old South Church. The builder and first 
occupant of this house was Mr. Peter Sergeant, a wealthy 
London merchant, who came to Boston in 1667. It was 
built of brick, was three stories high, with a gambrel roof and 
conspicuous cupola. 

In 1 716 the authorities purchased this house for ^2,300, 
and it was fitted up with great elegance. Here the governors 
held their vice-regal court. The royal arms, carved in deal 
and gilt, crowned the wide portico. Here, at the official re- 
ceptions, ladies shone in silk and satin, and gentlemen in 
purple and scarlet embroidered with gold. Up the great 
staircase in military boots the new governor strode, and 
looked out from the high cupola over a most picturesque part 




THE PROVINCE HOUSE. 



1706. Benjamin Franklin. 177 

of the pleasant province. In the great court below the mili- 
tary were from time to time reviewed. The royal arms that 
were placed above the door may still be seen in the rooms of 
the Massachusetts Historical Society, and the old vane, which 
was a gilded Indian, forms, or has formed, a part of the his- 
torical collection in the Old South Church. Hawthorne's 
"Stories of the Old Province House," giving views of the 
beautiful ladies, provincial warriors, and proud royalists who 
once attended its festivals, are masterpieces of fiction, and 
perhaps the most elegant ever written by a New England 
author. 

After the evacuation of Boston by the British this house 
was used for the public business of the colony. 

Governor Shute came to dwell here in 1716. Here came 
Governor Burnet, son of the celebrated Bishop Burnet the 
historian, escorted to the door by a cavalcade. Mather 
Byles composed a poem for the pompous reception, full of 
soaring metaphors. The festivities on the occasion cost the 
treasury ^"1,100. 

The royal governors worshipped in King's Chapel, where 
was a state pew with canopy and drapery. The first King's 
Chapel was built of wood about the year 1689, at the time of 
Andros. As the colonists would not sell the unpopular gov- 
ernor land for the purpose of a church, he used one corner 
of the public burying-ground. The corner-stone of the pres- 
ent King's Chapel was laid by the brilliant Governor Shirley 
Aug. 11, 1749. Governor and Lady Shirley, who died at 
Dorchester, were entombed under the church. 

The first newspaper in America was published in 1 704. It 
was called the Boston News-Letter. 

Benjamin Franklin, the most eminent American philoso- 
pher of the eighteenth century, was born in Boston, Jan. 
1 7, 1 706. His birthplace was on Milk Street, where the 
Boston Post building now stands. The tomb of the Franklin 

12 



178 Young Folks History of Boston. 

family is the most conspicuous in the Granary Burying-ground, 
near Park Street Church, and may be seen from the street. 
Benjamin was the fifteenth of seventeen children. " I re- 
member/' he says, " thirteen children sitting at one time at 
the table." He was baptized on the day of his birth in the 
Old South Church. At the age of twelve he was apprenticed 




FRANKLIN. 



to his brother, who was a printer. He had a great thirst for 
learning, and read constantly. Among the boy's books were 
Addison's "Spectator," then just published, Locke on the 
" Understanding," and Xenophon's " Memorabilia," which 
were quite unlike the boys' books of to-day. When he was 
fourteen years of age his brother established the New Eng- 




king's chapel, tremont street. 



i73°- 



Franklins Industry. 181 



land Courant, the second newspaper in Boston, and fourth in 
America, and he himself carried it to the subscribers. 

He wrote poetry, and was ambitious to contribute articles 
to the paper. As he feared that his brother did not appreci- 
ate his literary abilities, he tucked certain contributions under 
the door of his shop, which James Franklin thought so good 
that he printed them, not knowing from whom they came. 
James was much offended when he discovered their author- 
ship. He never treated Benjamin well, and he used some- 
times to beat him. Determined to be free from so arbitrary 
a master, Benjamin went to Philadelphia, where he ultimately 
established a printing press of his own. He had a hard expe- 
rience in youth, but he once said in regard to such disci- 
pline, " A good kick out of doors is worth all the rich uncles 
in the world." 

A STORY OF FRANKLIN'S EARLY STRUGGLE FOR SUCCESS. 

When Benjamin Franklin opened his printing office in 
Philadelphia, he was obliged to struggle against many ad- 
verse circumstances. 

He was young and poor ; the country was new, and the 
public mind was unsettled, and two printing offices of estab- 
lished reputation were already doing a thriving business in 
the place. He knew that he must succeed, if he succeeded 
at all, by honorable dealing, energy, and perseverance. 

There lived in Philadelphia, at this time, a gentleman of 
wealth and position by the name of Samuel Mickle. He 
was one of those morose persons who take a most dismal 
view of human affairs, and go about prophesying disaster and 
ruin. He looked upon the settlements in the New World 
as failures, and expected that Philadelphia would speedily 
decline and return to the primitive wilderness. 

Having plenty of leisure, he made it a sort of missionary 



1 82 Voting Folks' History of Boston. 

work to disseminate these startling opinions and to warn 
those who were prospering in a business way, and those who 
were engaging in new enterprises, of the impending doom. 

Hearing that young Franklin had opened a printing 
office, he concluded to make him a call, and accordingly 
appeared, one day, at the door of the new establishment. 
Franklin's experience in business had not been promising 
thus far, and his view of the future was anything but cheerful. 
His face brightened, however, as he saw the portly old gentle- 
man at his door, and noticed his elegant and courtly bearing, 
thinking that he might have come with proposals for work. 

" Are you the young man that has just opened a printing 
office ? " asked Mr. Mickle. 

Franklin answered in the affirmative. 

" I am sorry, very sorry," said the old gentleman, looking 
very solemn, and speaking in a very impressive tone. " It 
must be an expensive undertaking, and your money will all 
be lost. Don't you know Philadelphia is already falling into 
decay? Most of its business men are obliged to call their 
creditors together. I know, as an undoubted fact," he con- 
tinued, with great emphasis, "that all of the circumstances 
that might lead one to think otherwise, such as the erection 
of new buildings and the advanced prices for rent, are 
deceitful appearances, that will only make the ruin more 
sweeping and dreadful when it comes ! " 

He then proceeded to illustrate these statements by detail- 
ing the private affairs of a number of individuals into whose 
business he had been prying. 

" He gave me," says Franklin, " so long a detail of mis- 
fortunes actually existing, or about to take place, that he 
left me almost in a state of despair." 

Franklin, however, recovered his self-possession, and re- 
solved to redouble his energy and to work as he never had 
worked before. 



I 




GEORGE I. 



i 



1756. 



Franklin's Stcccess as a Printer. 



185 



" The industry of this Franklin," said Dr. Bard, at a meet- 
ing of the Merchants' Club, not long after the occurrence of 
the incident we have related, " is superior to anything of the 
kind I have ever witnessed. I see him still at work when I 
return from the club at night, and he is at it again in the 
morning before his neighbors are out of bed." 

The success of Franklin as a printer is well known, and 
we need only allude to it here. But poor Mr. Mickle ? 

"He continued," says Franklin, "to live in this place of 
decay, and to declaim in the same style, refusing for many 
years to buy a house, because all was going to wreck ; and 
in the end I had the satisfaction to see him pay five times 
as much for one as it would have cost him had he purchased 
it when he first began his lamentations." 

Almost every young man of enterprise encounters a Samuel 
Mickle. To such the example of Franklin 'affords a whole- 
some lesson. 




franklin's birthplace. 



i 



"A fleet with flags arrayed 
Sailed from the port of Brest, 
And the Admiral's ship displayed 

The signal, ' Steer southwest.' 
For this Admiral d' Anville 

Had sworn by cross and crown 
To ravage with fire and steel 
Our helpless Boston Town." 

Longfellow. 



I 



* 



CHAPTER XI. 

THE TIMES OF THE ELEVEN ROYAL GOVERNORS AND 
OF THE OLD PROVINCE HOUSE, CONTINUED. 

The Old South Church was erected in 1729. As King's 
Chapel is associated with the royal governors, so this church 
gathers historic fame from all the great episodes of the strug- 
gle for liberty. It became the church of the people. 

In 1744 began the war between England and France 
known as " King George's War." The colonies entered into 
it by preparing an expedition against Louisburg, Cape Breton, 
then occupied by the French. The contest' on this side of 
the water was called " Governor Shirley's War." 

The fleet of the expedition sailed from Boston. It carried 
away three thousand men. Louisburg was regarded by the 
French as the Gibraltar of America, and its fortifications cost 
some five million dollars. The fleet came in sight of Louis- 
burg April 30, 1745, and on the 17th of June the besiegers 
compelled its surrender. Joy filled the colonies over this 
great victory. 

The joy in Boston, however, was soon changed to anxiety 
by the news that Admiral d' Anville was preparing an expe- 
dition at Brest for the destruction of the town. In anticipa- 
tion of the attack nearly seven thousand men were placed 
under arms on Boston Common. 

It was September, — the Sabbath. In his lofty pulpit in 
the Old South Church Rev. Thomas Prince rose to pray for 



190 Young Folks' History of Boston. 

deliverance from the impending danger. While he was 
praying " a sudden gust of wind arose, the day having until 
now been clear and calm, so violent as to cause a loud 
clattering of the windows. The pastor paused in his prayer, 
and, looking around upon the congregation with a counte- 
nance full of hope, he again commenced, and with great 
devotional ardor supplicated the Almighty to cause that wind 
to frustrate the object of ' our enemies.' A tempest ensued, 
in which the greater part of the French fleet was wrecked on 
the coast of Nova Scotia. The Duke d' Anville committed 
suicide." 

Longfellow has thus paraphrased Thomas Prince's prayer, 
perpetuating the story in song : — 

" ' O Lord, we would not advise ; 
But if in thy providence 
A tempest should arise 
To drive the French fleet hence, 
And scatter it far and wide, 
Or sink it in the sea, 
We should be satisfied, 
And thine the glory be.' 

' ' This was the prayer I made, 
For my soul was all on flame, 
And even as I prayed 
The answering tempest came ; 
It came with a mighty power, 
Shaking the windows and walls, 
And tolling the bell in the tower 
As it tolls at funerals." 1 

In 1734 a great religious awakening under the powerful 
preaching of Jonathan Edwards began in New England. As 
by one impulse people turned their attention to their spirit- 
ual concerns. In 1 740, while Belcher was governor, George 

1 Atlantic Monthly , 1877. 



1740. 



George Whitefield. 



193 



Whitefield came to Boston. He was welcomed by the gov- 
ernor's son, a ''train of clergy, and principal inhabitants." 
No church would hold the throngs of people who came from 
all quarters to hear him, and he was obliged to preach on 
the Common. He once attempted to preach in the Old 
South Church, but such a crowd gathered that he himself was 
obliged to crawl into 
the house by the win- 
dow. It was early au- 
tumn. The Common 
was beautiful with its 
bright tinted trees. Ten 
thousand people used 
to gather in their shade 
to hear the matchless 
eloquence of the Eng- 
lish evangelist. He 
preached his farewell 
sermon there to twenty 
thousand people. 

Notwithstanding the 
royal governors, this 
was a bright, happy 
period of history. The 
city was kept from 
hostile attacks, from 
disease, and every great 
calamity, and she grew 
in wealth, prosperity, 

and population, and in the determination that she would yet 
control her own liberties and be independent and free. 

There were many elegant residences in Boston at this time. 
One of them belonged to the Faneuil family. It was on 
Tremont Street, opposite the King's Chapel Burying-ground. 

13 




THE OLD SOUTH CHURCH. 



194 Young Folks History of Boston. 

It had a "deep court-yard ornamented with flowers and 
shrubs, divided into an upper and lower platform by a high 
glacis, surmounted by a richly wrought iron railing, decorated 
with gilt balls. The hall and apartments were spacious and 
elegantly furnished. The terraces, which rose from the 
paved court behind the house, were supported by massy 
walls of hewn granite, and were ascended by flights of steps 
of the same material." 

Andrew Faneuil was a French Protestant or Huguenot. 
He escaped to Holland after the revocation of the Edict of 
Nantes, which destroyed the religious privileges of the Prot- 
estants in France. He came to America about 1691. A 
church of French Protestants was gathered here, and Peter 
Daille, whose headstone may still be seen in the Granary 
Burying-ground, was the pastor. Faneuil and Bowdoin were 
leading members. 

Peter Faneuil was a nephew of the French pioneer, and 
he inherited his estate and wealth. He gave to the city the 
large building for a market that became known as Faneuil 
Hall. At the first town-meeting held in the hall over the 
market, his own eulogy was pronounced, he having died 
shortly after the gift (1742). 

The funeral oration of Peter Faneuil was delivered by 
John Lovell, master of the Latin School. It was the first of 
a long series of orations delivered in Faneuil Hall on Bos- 
ton's public men as the by-gone generation of patriots and 
benefactors one by one disappeared. It was printed on the 
town records. Near the close appears this striking, eloquent, 
and almost prophetic passage : — 

" What now remains, but my ardent wishes that this hall 
may be ever sacred to the interests of truth, of justice, of 
loyalty, of honor, of liberty. 

" May no private views or party broils ever enter within 
these walls, but may the same public spirit that glowed in the 




REVOCATION OK THE EDICT OF NANTES. 



l 74i. The Frankland Mansion. lg? 

breast of the generous founder influence all your debates 
that society may reap the benefits of them. 

" May Liberty always spread its joyful wings over this 
place! — Liberty, that opens men's hearts to beneficence 
and gives the relish to those who enjoy the effects of it 

"And may Loyalty to the King, under whom we 'enjoy 
this liberty, ever remain our character." 

This was the town hall, -the Hotel de Ville after the 
manner of European cities. The town showed its loyalty 
by adorning it with the picture of George II. In i 7 6i it 
was nearly destroyed by fire; it was rebuilt 1763-64 In 
the second hall Revolutionary meetings were held. A new 
hall was added to the building in 1805. This third hall 
Webster Everett, Choate, Sumner, and Philipps have made 
famous by their eloquence. 

For the following account of another colonial mansion, I 
am indebted to a lady who copkd it from a verbal descrip- 
tion by a very aged member of her own family .- — 

" Lord Frankland's Palace » has formed the theme of 
many writers, and his romantic history has been a fruitful 
subject. The novelist Cooper visited the house with a 
grandson of Governor Winthrop, that he might make it the 
scene of his « Lionel Lincoln." Although better known by 
the name of Frankland, the house was built by Hon. William 
Clark, a wealthy merchant, whose tomb may be seen in the 
old part of Copp's Hill Burying-ground. It was purchased 
from him by Sir Henry Frankland, who in i 74 i was ap- 
pointed Collector of the Port of Boston 

of M tH n I T th3t h£ br ° Ught Agnes Sl,rria S e > a P°or V* 
of Marblehead. Her beauty attracted Lord Frankland in 

one of his visits to that town, as he saw her, barefooted 

and poorly clad, passing from the tavern door to the well 

tor water. Upon his return to England he took her with 



198 



Young Folks History of Boston. 



him. His wealthy and aristocratic family refused to notice 
her. 

They travelled extensively. At the time of the earthquake 
in Lisbon, in 1755, she was the means of saving his life. 
For this and her constancy he married her, and from hence- 
forth she was recognized as Lady Frankland. 




THE FRANKLAND HOUSE. 



Upon one of the attic doors in the old house, written in a 
childish hand with something resembling chalk, and yet which 
no amount of scouring would efface, were the words : " Isaac 
Surriage is a naughty boy and deserves a horse -whipping." 



Who was Isaac Surriage ? 



He was a brother of Agnes, some years younger. One 
day he was sent by the captain of the vessel on which he 



1 741. The Frank land Mansion. 199 

was cabin-boy, to the house of Lord Frankland with a mes- 
sage. Returning to the ship he said to a companion, — 

" My sister lives' there." 

The next day they went to view the house ; the front 
door being open they saw a lady pass through the entry. 

" There is your sister, Isaac," said his companion. 

The lady hearing the words turned and recognized her 
brother. He was welcomed to her home, and afterwards 
became the possessor of the elegant mansion. 

The house was situated at the North End, for many years 
the fashionable part of the town and city. It was on Garden 
Court Street. There was a side gate on Bell Alley, now 
New Prince Street. 

From the top could be obtained an extensive view of the 
harbor, forts, and islands. With spy-glass in hand one could 
discern the coining of homeward-bound vessels. 

Although the outside of the house has been to some extent 
described by others, there are only a few left who can speak 
of the interior. 

Passing up a flight of stone steps, one entered by the front 
door a large hall ; midway of this was an arch, in the centre 
of which was suspended a large brass lantern. On either 
side of the door were very large parlors. In one the floor 
was inlaid with hundreds of pieces of wood of various forms. 
The centre of this floor has been made into a table. All the 
windows had low mahogany seats, broad enough for two or 
three to sit upon them. 

Here in this room the Duke of Argyle, grandfather of the 
Marquis of Lome, son-in-law of Queen Victoria, was mar- 
ried. 

Under one of the flights of stairs was a dark closet, where, 
it is said, a refugee was hid during the Revolution. 

Except in the parts my father had repaired, the house 
reminded one of those old castle-like structures described by 



200 



Young Folks History of Boston. 



story-writers. But all has been gone for many years, and 
a number of houses and stores now occupy the site of this 
old landmark. e. c. w. 

Oliver Wendell Holmes has told the story of Lady Agnes 
in one of his long poems. You may like to read it in this 
connection. 




THE LIBERTY TREE. 




MAP OF NEW ENGLAND ABOUT l/OO. 



" They left the ploughshare in the mould, 
Their flocks and herds without a fold, 
The sickle in the unshorn grain, 
The corn, half-garnered, on the plain ; 
And mustered, in their simple dress, 
For wrongs to seek a stern redress. 
To right those wrongs, come weal, come woe, 
To perish, or overcome their foe. 

" And where are ye, O fearless men? 

And where are ye to-day ? 
I call, — the hills reply again 

That ye have passed away ; 
That on old Bunker's lonely height, 

In Trenton, and in Monmouth ground, 
The grass grows green, the harvest bright, 

Above each soldier's mound. 

" The bugle's wild and warlike blast 

Shall muster them no more ; 
An army now might thunder past 

And they not heed its roar. 
The starry flag, 'neath which they fought 

In many a bloody day, 
From their old graves shall rouse them not, 

For they have passed away." 



CHAPTER XII. 

THE EVE OF REVOLUTION. 

A shadow fell on the golden age of the colonial period 
when the old charter was taken away ; political clouds gath- 
ered again and again, and as often melted into sunshine 
during the long period of the royal governors, but now the 
tempest was gathering indeed. 

The Stamp Act was passed in 1765. It decided the peo- 
ple. The colony needed leaders, and in this necessity, Otis, 
Hancock, Adams, and Warren appeared. 

The Stamp Act laid a duty on every piece of paper on 
which anything of value could be written or printed. It was 
designed thus to raise a revenue for the Crown from the 
colonies. The people of the colonies said, " We are not 
represented in Parliament, and taxation without representa- 
tion is tyranny." 

James Otis, a man of powerful genius and ardent temper, 
of brilliant and impetuous eloquence, was one of the earliest 
advocates of the independence of the colonies in the man- 
agement of their local affairs. He was born at West Barns- 
table in 1725. In 1764 he published a masterly pamphlet 
entitled " The Rights of the Colonies Vindicated." In 1 765 
he moved the calling of a congress of delegates of the several 
colonies, a plan which met with popular favor and was 
adopted. This was the first decisive step towards indepen- 
dence. He lost his reason in his last years. As if fulfilling 



2o6 Young Folks History of Boston. 

a wish that he had often expressed, that he might die sud- 
denly, he was killed by a stroke of lightning in May, 1783. 

John Hancock was born at Quincy, 1737. He was the 
son of Rev. John Hancock of Braintree, and was educated 
by his uncle, Thomas Hancock, of Boston, a gentleman of 
wealth, whose fortune he received. He visited England 
in 1 760, where he witnessed the coronation of George III. 
He was a member of the Provincial Congress, and so strongly 
opposed the measures of the British ministry that he was 
exempted from the general pardon offered by General Gage 
when the latter attempted to stay the tide of revolution by 
pacific measures. 

Samuel Adams was born in Boston in 1722. He was a 
cousin of John Adams, afterwards President of the United 
States. He studied for the ministry. As early as 1 743, when 
he received the degree of A. M., he proposed a discussion 
of the question, " Whether it be lawful to resist the supreme 
magistrate, if the commonwealth otherwise cannot be pre- 
served." He strongly opposed the Stamp Act, and favored 
the Provincial Congress. He was also exempted from par- 
don in the proclamation of General Gage to which we have 
just referred. 

General Joseph Warren was born in 1741, at Roxbury, 
Mass., where his place may still be seen. He was a physi- 
cian. He became an ardent patriot, and, in advance of the 
public sentiment of the time when he first espoused the cause 
of liberty, he maintained that all taxation which could be 
imposed by Parliament on the colonies was tyranny. 

Here were the four leaders, brave, strong, educated men. 
Their cause was liberty, and events were hurrying. 

In October, 1760, George II. died suddenly in his palace 
at Kensington. The bells of Boston tolled ; it was the last 
time they were ever tolled for a king. George III. was pro- 
claimed, and his favorite minister, the Earl of Bute (Lord 




BOSTONIANS READING THE STAMP ACT. 



1766. Repeal of the Stamp Act. 209 

North), soon entered upon a policy hostile to the peace of 
the colony. 

" What shall we do ? " 

Every patriot asked the question. Conventions were 
called in various places to answer this inquiry that rose 
to every lip. 

It was the period of lawful and peaceable resistance to 
taxation, when the fiery spirit of the patriots was curbed by 
the bridle of English law. The Stamp Act, or a heavy tax 
on all kinds of paper, for the purpose of supporting the 
British government, had checked the growth of trade. 
Nothing could be done legally — newspapers could not be 
issued, the business of the courts could not proceed, no 
property could be transferred, no vessel could go to sea, no 
person could be married — without the use of the paper 
bearing upon it the odious stamp. 

In the middle of May, 1766, the news of the repeal of the 
Stamp Act was received in Boston. The town then num- 
bered some twenty thousand people. The fate of the bill 
for the repeal of the Stamp Act had been for weeks almost 
the only subject of discussion. Upon it the patriots felt 
rested the destiny of the colonies. 

Men scanned the blue line of Boston harbor, to see the 
white sails rise from the sea, and rushed to the wharves to 
receive the first intelligence from London. At length, on 
May 16, a lovely day, a brigantine flying the English flag 
was seen beyond the green islands of the bay, and soon 
entered the inner harbor. She was met at the wharf by a 
crowd, restless and impatient with anxiety. 

An hour later the bells of the town began to ring; the 
long idle ships in the harbor shot their ensigns into the warm 
May air ; the booming of cannon startled the people of the 
neighboring towns, and, as evening came on, great bonfires 
on Beacon Hill blazed upon the sea. From lip to lip passed 

14 



210 



Young Folks History of Boston. 



the single expression of joy and relief, — " The Stamp Act 
is repealed ! " 

A few days later witnessed a more remarkable scene, — a 
public holiday to give expression to the joy. At one o'clock 
in the morning the bell of Dr. Byles's church, standing near 
the Liberty Tree, where the Colonists used to meet, gave the 
signal for the beginning of the festival. It was followed by 




THE HANCOCK HOUSE. 



the melodious chimes of Christ Church, at the North End, 
and then by all the bells of the town. 

The first shimmering light and rosy tinges of the May 
morning found steeples fluttering with gay banners, and the 
Liberty Tree on Essex Street displaying among its new leaves 
an unexampled glory of bunting and flags. 

The festivities lasted until midnight. At night an obelisk 
which had been erected on the Common in honor of the 




ADAMS OPPOSING THE STAMP ACT FROM THE OLD STATE HOUSE. 



i770- Patriotic Ladies. 213 

occasion was illuminated with two hundred and eighty lamps, 
and displayed upon its top a revolving wheel of fire, as the 
crowning pyrotechny. The Hancock House, which stood 
on Beacon Hill where the Brewer residence now stands, was 
a blaze of light, and Province House was in its vice-regal 
glory. 

The Stamp Act was repealed, but the British government 
continued to tax the colonies, and the sudden sunshine of 
joy soon was overcast, and the storm gathered again. 

The article upon which the Crown made the most persist- 
ent attempt to raise a revenue was tea. The tax was a small 
matter, of itself; but if the right to tax one article was 
admitted, it acknowledged the right to tax all articles. 

As the excise officers of Great Britain held control of the 
ports, and in some cities were supported by soldiery, no tea 
could be obtained without paying the tax. The people 
therefore resolved that they would neither use, sell, nor 
buy an ounce of tea upon which this unjust tax had been 
paid. 

In February, 1770, the mistresses of three hundred fami- 
lies in Boston signed their names to a league, by which they 
bound themselves not to drink any tea until the obnoxious 
revenue act was repealed. 

Of course the young ladies were as ready to deny them- 
selves the use of this fashionable beverage as were their 
mothers; and only a few days later, a great multitude of 
misses, pretty and patriotic, signed a document headed with 
these words : — 

"We, the daughters of those patriots who have and do 
now appear for the public interest, and in that principally 
regard their posterity, — as such do with pleasure engage 
with them in denying ourselves the drinking of foreign tea, 
in hopes to frustrate the plan which tends to deprive a whole 
community of all that is valuable in Tif»." 



214 Young Folks History of Boston. 

The spirit of liberty spread. Tumultuous meetings be- 
came common in the street. In 1768 the officers of cus- 
toms seized a sloop, named Liberty, belonging to John 
Hancock, and placed her under the guns of a ship-of-war in 
the harbor. A mob collected, seized one of the collector's 
boats and burned it on the Common. In 1770 a boy was 
accidentally killed by a royalist whom the crowd were 
deriding by an effigy. The funeral of the boy was made the 
occasion of a great popular gathering. 

The corpse was taken to the Liberty Tree on Essex Street, 
amid tolling bells, where the immense procession began. 
Fifty schoolboys led, and were followed by about two thou- 
sand citizens. The pall was supported by six boys; the 
coffin bore a Latin inscription, — " Innocence itself is not 
safe." Business was suspended. The whole population of 
the town was in the streets, and the bells of the neighboring 
towns were heard echoing the solemn funeral bells of 
Boston. 

Such was the temper of the people. The royal governor 
was almost powerless, and troops were brought to Boston 
and stationed on the Common. Ships arrived bringing rein- 
forcements ; the Common became a camp, and difficulties 
between the citizens and foreign soldiers were frequently 
occurring. Every one seemed to feel that the storm of war 
was gathering. 

It was the 5 th of March, 1770, a clear moonlight night, 
with a light snow upon the ground, soon to be tinged with 
blood. A mob had assembled in front of the Custom House 
in State Street, where the British guard were stationed. 
Citizens had been insulted by a British soldier, and the town 
was again electric with excitement. Bells were ringing, 
people were running through all the streets. 

The crowd pressed upon the British soldiers and attacked 
them with snow and ice. 



i77o. Boston Boys and General Gage. 215 

" Fire, fire, if you dare ! " was cried on every hand. 

There was heard the crack of a musket in the keen March 
air ; another, and another. Three citizens fell dead. 

"To arms ! to arms ! " 

The cry ran through the town. 

Drums beat, bells rang madly, the King's Council imme- 
diately assembled. 

The citizens triumphed. The troops were removed to 
Castle William, on the island at the entrance to the harbor. 

The funeral of the slain was attended by a great concourse 
of people, and another day of clanging bells and feverish 
excitement was added to those of the past. 

The boys were fired with the spirit of their fathers. Gen- 
eral Gage was the commander of the military forces of New 
England, and his head-quarters were at Boston. During the 
winter, when the Common was a camp, the British soldiers 
destroyed the boys' coasting grounds. The larger boys v - 
called a meeting and resolved to wait upon General Gage 
and report to him the conduct of the soldiers. 

When they presented themselves before him he asked with 
surprise, — 

" Why have you come to me?" 

" We come, sir," said the leader, " to ask the punishment 
of those who wrong us." 

"Why, my boys, have your fathers made rebels of you 
and sent you here to talk rebellion? " 

" Nobody sent us, sir ; we have never insulted your soldiers, 
but they have spoiled our skating ground, and trodden down 
our snow hills. We complained : they laughed at us : we 
told the captain ; he sent us away. Yesterday our works 
were again destroyed. We can bear it no longer." 

" Good heavens ! " said General Gage to an officer at his 
side ; " the very children draw in the love of freedom with 
the air they breathe ! " 



216 Young Folks History of Boston. 

Turning to the boys, he said, — 

" You may go ; if any of my soldiers disturb you in the 
future they shall be punished." 

The English East India Company obtained a license to 
export a large quantity of tea to America. The news 
reached Boston in October, 1773 ; meetings were called and 
resolutions were passed that no taxed tea should be landed. 

The ships arrived. A great meeting was held in the Old 
South Church, at which at least two thousand men were 
present, who were addressed by the patriots. 

In the evening strange-looking people began to mingle 
with the crowd. They were dressed like Indians. One of 
them at last shouted, — 

"Who knows how tea will mingle with salt water?" 

There was heard a wild cry, an Indian war-whoop. The 
strange-looking people disappeared, and the assembly dis- 
persed. 

In the morning it was found that the men disguised as 
Indians had boarded the ships and emptied two hundred 
and forty chests and a hundred half-chests into the dock. 

The news of this transaction enraged England. Parliament 
passed an act closing the port of Boston. Business in the 
town now almost ceased. 

All the summer of 1774 troops were arriving from Eng- 
land. At the close of the year there were eleven regiments 
of Red Coats, as the British soldiers were called, in Boston. 

Governor and General Gage had arranged to assemble a 
General Court at Salem in October. But the excitement 
was so great that he deferred the call by proclamation. The 
representatives, however, appeared at the previously ap- 
pointed place and time, and formed a Provincial Congress, 
and then adjourned to meet at Concord. This Congress 
called upon the people to arm. General Gage thus found 
himself ignored, his power as governor gone ; and with it the 



1775- 



Paul Reveres Ride. 219 



rule of the royal governors came to an end, after a period 
of more than eighty years. 

The Provincial Congress at Concord placed under arms the 
whole militia of the province. It took measures for the es- 
tablishment of two magazines, one at Concord and the other 
at Worcester. General Gage, who was in command at Bos- 
ton, was soon informed of what the assembly had done. He 
was watchful of the patriots ; they were also watchful of him. 
The slightest movement of the loyalists was suspected. The 
whole population was prepared to rise in arms to resist the 
oppressor. 

PAUL REVERE'S RIDE. 

A day or two before the eventful 19th of April, 1775, Gen- 
eral Gage began preparations for an expedition to destroy 
the military stores that the patriots had collected. Boats 
from a ship-of-war were launched to carry the troops across 
the Charles River. The movement was observed by the 
patriots. Companies of soldiers were massed on Boston 
Common, under pretence of learning a new military exercise. 

D r> — afterwards General — Warren, who fell at Bunker Hill, 
at once sent Paul Revere to arouse the country. He was to 
notify Hancock and Adams, who were at Lexington, that a 
plot was on foot to arrest them, and to warn the people of 
Concord that the troops were coming to destroy the military 
stores collected there. 

" As soon as the British troops begin to move," said Re- 
vere to a patriot, " hang out two lanterns in the steeple of 
the North Meeting-house." 

From this position the people of Charlestown would see 
the signals at once. The officers at the Province House 
would not discover them. 

Revere rowed across the river with muffled oars. He 
reached Charlestown, and not a moment too soon. 



220 Yotmg Folks History of Boston. 

April 1 8th, — ten o'clock. The British troops are in mo- 
tion. Two lights flash into the darkness from the old North 
steeple. 

"The British troops have marched, but will miss their 
aim," said a patriot in the hearing of Lord Percy, one of the 
British commanders. 

"What aim?" 

" The cannon at Concord." 

Percy hastened back to the Province House and told Gage 
what he had heard. 

"I am betrayed," said Gage; "let no one leave the 
town." 

But Revere was in Charlestown already. 

He flew on horseback over the country roads alarming 
every household, warning Hancock and Adams at Lexington, 
and despatching a friend with the news to Concord. 

The British troops embarked at the foot of Boston Com- 
mon, for the tide then came nearly up to the side of the hill 
where the Soldiers' Monument now stands. They landed at 
Cambridge, and after a night's march reached Lexington 
early in the morning. They found there sixty or seventy 
armed farmers waiting to defend their liberties. 

In the chilly spring morning, just before sunrise, Major 
Pitcairn rode upon Lexington Common. 

" Disperse, you rebels," he cried to the armed patriots, 
accompanying the order with an oath. 

He himself fired upon the patriots, at the same time call- 
ing upon the troops to fire. 

The British fired. Eleven patriots fell dead, and nine 
were wounded. The patriots retreated. 

The sun rose over the gray hills. 

" Oh what a glorious morning this is ! " said Samuel Ad- 
ams, when he heard that the contest for liberty had indeed 
begun. 



1775- 



Rallying at Concord. 



221 



The British hurried on to Concord, a distance of six miles. 
They found the country rising in arms, and that the military 
stores they sought to destroy had been removed. Companies 
of militia were hastening to Concord from the neighboring 
towns. Minute-men were gathering there from every road. 




PROVINCIALS RALLYING AT CONCORD. 

Two parties of British troops went in search of concealed 
supplies, one over the south bridge and the other over the 
north bridge. They were watched by the Provincials, who 
presently saw houses bursting into flame, and resolved to 
march to the defence of their homes. They advanced towards 
the north bridge, but the order was that not a shot should 
be fired unless the regulars attacked them. 

At last the British fired. Two patriots fell. 

" Fire ! for God's sake, fire ! " shouted Major Buttrick of 
Concord, leaping into the air, and turning round to his men. 



222 Young Folks History of Boston. 

The patriots fired. 

The American Revolution had begun. 

The British had found themselves surrounded by enemies 
on every hand. They knew they must retreat, and at once. 

Back to Boston all the warm April day they marched, fired 
at by the minute-men who lay in ambush on every side. 
Finding the dangers increasing they began to run. At two 
o'clock in the afternoon they reached a point about a mile 
from the place where they had murdered the people of Lex- 
ington in the morning. Here they were met by the flower of 
the British army, that had been sent for their succor from 
Boston. 

These troops were under Lord Percy, and were twelve 
hundred strong, with two field-pieces. They were not a mo- 
ment too soon. Lord Percy formed a hollow square to re- 
ceive the fugitives, who, as a British writer of the time said, 
lay down to rest, " their tongues hanging out of their mouths 
like those of a dog after a chase." 

Even when the regulars were thus reinforced their position 
was very perilous. Their enemies were increasing in num- 
bers every moment. In a short time the troops would cer- 
tainly be cut off and overwhelmed unless they moved at 
once. 

The march was resumed and the fighting began again. 
More men came up to help the patriots, who had become 
weary with their long, irregular march and hard work. It was 
seven o'clock in the evening when the British force reached 
Charlestown. Protected by the guns of the ship-of-war in 
the harbor, they took to their boats and were ferried across to 
Boston. 

The losses of the British were seventy-three killed, one 
hundred and seventy-two wounded, and twenty-six missing ; 
while the Americans lost forty-nine killed, thirty-six wounded, 
and five missing. 



(I'V:'^ 1 ' 






': ;,. r % 







1775- Dorothy Quincy s Wedding. 225 

We will close this chapter with some stories of these days 
of patriotism and some account of the memorials of that 
noble and heroic period. 



THE STORY OF DOROTHY QUINCY'S WEDDING. 

In a Connecticut newspaper, printed one hundred and six 
years ago, appears this brief, business-like announcement : — * 

" September, 1775, on the 28th ult., was married at the seat 
of Thaddeus Burr, Esq., in Fairfield, by the Rev. Andrew 
Eliot, John Hancock, Esq., Prest. of the Continental Con- 
gress, to Miss Dorothy Quincy, daughter of Edmund Quincy, 
Esq., of Boston." 

Dorothy Quincy was the youngest of nine children, and in 
1 775 was living with her father in a pretty wooden dwelling on 
Summer Street, not far from the stately Hancock mansion, 
which fronted on the Common. She was fully the equal of 
Governor Hancock in social position if not in wealth, and 
had the advantage of him in age, he being some years her 
senior. She was the petted belle of Boston society at this 
time. The marriage was arranged, so the gossips said, by 
Madam Hancock, aunt of the governor, and widow of Thomas 
Hancock, the great Boston merchant, from whom Governor 
Hancock derived the bulk of his fortune. Miss Dolly being 
motherless, the madam chaperoned her about, and conceiving 
a deep affection for the beautiful girl busied herself in pro- 
moting a union between her two prot£g£s with such good 
effect that in the winter of 1775 their engagement was an- 
nounced. 

On the eve of the eventful 19th of April, 1775, Madam 
Hancock and Miss Dolly were visiting in Lexington at the 
house of a relative of the former, — a Rev. Mr. Clark. This 
had been the home of Governor Hancock that winter during 
the sitting of the Provincial Congress at Concord, and as it 

*5 



226 Young Folks' History of Boston. 

happened both he and Samuel Adams were present on this 
occasion. 

At midnight Paul Revere startled this company by riding 
up with a message from Dr. Warren advising them to save 
themselves and alarm the country, as General Gage had or- 
dered a force to march that night to destroy the stores at 
Concord. There was great excitement in the little village ; 
the church-bell was rung, and the patriots came pouring in 
from all sides. Hancock and Adams remained on the green 
organizing and encouraging the militia until daybreak, when, 
learning that their capture was one of the objects of the ex- 
pedition, they retired to Woburn, and found shelter at the 
house of the Rev. Mr. Jones. The ladies remained in Lex- 
ington and witnessed the fight, Madam Hancock from the 
open door and Miss Dolly from the chamber window, until 
they were called away to attend to the wounded who were 
brought in. 

After the British had passed on to Concord a message from 
Mr. Hancock arrived telling them where he and Mr. Adams 
were, and asking them to drive over in the carriage and bring 
the fine salmon they had ordered for dinner. The ladies did 
so ; the salmon was cooked, and the party was just sitting 
down to it when a man rushed in with the news that the 
British were coming, and the persecuted patriots were again 
obliged to flee, this time to a friendly swamp, where they 
remained until the alarm was proven a false one. 

Next day Miss Dolly informed Mr. Hancock that she should 
return to her father in Boston. 

" No, madam," he replied, " you shall not return as long as 
there is a British bayonet in Boston." 

" Recollect, Mr. Hancock," she replied, " I am not under 
your control yet. I shall go in to my father to-morrow." 

She did not go, however; Madam Hancock would not 
hear of it, and it was nearly three years before she saw her 




c*xr*^ 



SECTION OF BONNER'S MAP, i;22. 



1775- Dorothy Quincys Wedding. 229 

native town again. Madam Hancock, poor lady, never re- 
turned. 

After the battle Hancock and Adams found themselves 
proscribed men, and as the neighborhood of Boston was un- 
safe, they passed down through the interior counties of Mas- 
sachusetts and Connecticut to Fairfield and the hospitable 
mansion of their mutual friend, Thaddeus Burr. 

Madam Hancock and Miss Dolly accompanied them. Mr. 
Burr was a gentleman of good family and ample estate, and 
received his guests with the utmost cordiality. At his hos- 
pitable mansion the two refugees remained for several weeks 
and then went on to the Second Continental Congress, which 
met at Philadelphia, and of which Mr. Hancock was Presi- 
dent. Miss Dorothy and the madam, however, remained at 
Fairfield all through this eventful summer. 

In August Governor Hancock returned from Congress, and 
on the 28th they were married at Mr. Burr's house by the 
Rev. Andrew Eliot, pastor of the Fairfield church. It could 
not have been a very merry gathering, I think, for the groom 
was a proscribed man, and his house and property, as well as 
that of his bride, were in the hands of the enemy. Quite a 
number of guests were present, however, political friends of 
the Governor, and young lady companions of Miss Dorothy's 
whom the war had driven into exile. After the blessing 
had been pronounced the newly wedded pair entered their 
carriage and were driven by slow stages to Philadelphia, 
where Mr. Hancock resumed his duties as President of the 
Congress. 

Perhaps the reader is curious to know how this bride of 
high degree spent the hours of her honeymoon? Chiefly, 
she tells us, in packing up commissions to be sent to the 
officers of the volunteer army recently created by Con- 
gress. 

After the evacuation of Boston Mr. Hancock became gov- 



230 Young Folks History of Boston. 

ernor, and he and his wife took up their residence at the 
Hancock House. 



DOROTHY QUINCY'S RECEPTION. 

Dorothy Quincy, afterwards wife of John Hancock, was 
the leader of Boston society at the beginning of the Revolu- 
tion. She lived in a stately residence on Summer Street. 
Her grandfather, Edmund Quincy, was Judge of the Supreme 
Court of Massachusetts and the colony's agent at the Court 
of St. James. We have told you the story of her romantic 
marriage with John Hancock. 

The fine old Hancock House stood on Beacon Hill; 
Hancock Street descends almost directly from the place. 
After Dorothy Quincy became Madam Hancock and returned 
to Boston with her husband after the evacuation of the town, 
she still led society, and the Hancock House was at times 
the scene of elegant receptions. 

In 1778 a French fleet under Count d'Estaing came 
sailing into Boston harbor. 

" We must give a reception to the officers," said Governor 
Hancock to the stately Dorothy. 

The grand lady thought a breakfast to the officers would 
be the courteous thing, and so it was arranged that the 
French Count and thirty officers should be invited to break- 
fast at the Hancock House. 

The Count cordially accepted the invitation, but instead of 
inviting only thirty officers to accompany him he asked all 
the officers of the fleet, including the midshipmen. 

When John Hancock saw the great crowd of Frenchmen 
coming he sent word to his wife, — 

" Get breakfast for one hundred and twenty more /" 

Here was a situation requiring good management in- 
deed. 




JOHN HANCOCK. 



1 778. DorotJiy Quincys Reception. 233 

We can imagine the stately Dorothy at the Hancock 
House enjoying the fine appearance of her tables with the 
ample food for thirty plates. She looks out over the Com- 
mon to see the French party in gold lace make its appear- 
ance. There comes a messenger in great haste. 

"Get breakfast for one hundred and twenty more." 

John Hancock was always equal to an emergency, and so 
was Dorothy. In this trying situation she did not rush into 
her room, lock the door, and sit down to cry, nor did she 
abuse her husband and call him a brute. 

How did the energetic Dorothy meet the difficulty? 
She sent word to the guard to milk all the cows on the Com- 
mon and bring the pails of milk to her, then she despatched 
her servants who could be spared to borrow cake and other 
good things of the first families of the town for a breakfast 
table. 

When the great crowd of Frenchmen came she was mis- 
tress of the situation and prepared to receive them with 
dignity. 

"The Frenchmen," said Dorothy, "ate voraciously, and 
one of them drank seventeen cups of tea." 

Some of the midshipmen destroyed the fruit in the gar- 
den. The Count seemed to feel that he had encroached 
on the rule of hospitality, and to make amends he invited 
Madam Hancock and her friends to visit his fleet. 

Dorothy accepted the invitation and determined to in- 
vite all of her friends to accompany her. 

She invited five hundred. 

The Count received the party graciously, and provided an 
elegant entertainment. 

The Count with a polite gesture handed Madam Hancock 
a string and desired her to pull it. She did so, causing 
the firing of a cannon. This was a signal for a feu de joie 
to the fleet. Reports of cannon came from all the ships, and 



234 Young Folks History of Boston. 

the party was enveloped in smoke and almost deafened at 
the sound. 

Good Boston ladies are, we hope, always pleasant and 
beaming when their husbands introduce more company 
than was expected, — following the example of Dorothy 
Hancock. 

STORY OF A VISIT TO CHRIST CHURCH. 

We recently spent a Sabbath at Christ Church, whose 
steeple is associated with the historic signal lights that gave 
warning to Paul Revere. It was a late autumn day in which 
something of summer mildness yet lingered, though the 
flowers were gone and the trees were bare. We had often 
seen the sharp spire of Christ Church rising above the 
havened shipping at the docks and wharves near Charlestown 
Navy Yard, and had recalled the historic lanterns that once 
shone as a signal in its high window, and inspired the 
intrepid rider. The old chimes were ringing as we passed 
up Salem Street, filling the mellow air with the sweet music 
of "Antioch." 

A great change has passed over this part of the city of 
Boston since those same chimes rung out in colonial days. 
Excepting Christ Church and Copp's Hill Burying-ground, 
little remains to remind the visitor that this was once the 
place of residence of the best English families. Salem Street 
is full of tenement-houses, and the streets that intersect this 
once fine thoroughfare swarm with the children of a foreign 
population, representing half a dozen nationalities. The air, 
though cleared on Sunday, is usually smoky from mechanical 
workshops, and hardly a house remains that would indicate 
any association of the locality with the best days of the New 
England colonies. 

The church is a plain structure. Except in the music of 



1706. 



Christ Church. 



235 



its chimes, which is particularly joyous on Sabbath mornings 
and on Christmas Day and at Easter, there is nothing about 
it to arrest the step of the stranger. But the interior is 
quaint and remarkable. One seems to pass in a moment 
from the busy 
scenes of one 
generation to the 
stately and quiet 
habitudes of an- 
other as he puts 
behind him the 
door. 

A choir of chil- 
dren, composed 
of about an equal 
number of boys 
and girls, was 
singing in the 
orchestra, accom- 
panied by the or- 
gan, as we en- 
tered. In front 
of the orchestra, 
to which our eye 
was first directed, 
stand four wooden angels with trumpets, carved after some 
antique pattern, and highly painted. They were taken by 
a privateer from a captured vessel bound for Spain, and so 
found their way to a Protestant church, instead of a Catholic 
cathedral. The odd chandeliers, to which our eye was next 
turned, have a similar history. 

The pews are straight, stately, and old, and the old pulpit 
is furnished with a Bible and Prayer-Book, the gift of George 
II. The communion service was the gift of the same king, 




CHRIST CHURCH. 



236 Young Folks History of Boston. 

as that of King's Chapel was the endowment of William and 
Mary. 

The chancel looks more like a faded picture than anything 
in American decorative art, though the old-time chancel 
window has been closed. Near it stands the first monument 
and bust of Washington ever made in this country. 

The church has its memorial inscriptions, and, like most 
churches of colonial date, its tombs. The remains of Major 
Pitcairn were interred under this church, and are still sup- 
posed to be there by certain antiquaries, notwithstanding 
the record on the monument in Westminster Abbey. It is 
said that the body of Lieutenant Shea, who was also interred 
under this church, was forwarded to England as that of Pit- 
cairn, by mistake, the sexton at the time of the removal not 
being able to identify the remains. It was afterward remem- 
bered that Shea had worn a plaster on his head, which was 
the case of the body sent over the sea. 

The steeple of Christ Church bears the date of 1 723. It 
is the oldest church in Boston standing on its original ground, 
and was erected six years before the Old South. Except 
King's Chapel, it is the only house of worship that remains 
for the most part unaltered since colonial days. Brattle Street 
Church has been taken down, and the congregations accus- 
tomed to worship there erected a new and costly church on 
the Back Bay, which has lately been sold. King's Chapel 
has lost much of its old-time expression in the retouches of 
decorative art. But the removal of business and wealth to 
the southern portion of the city has proved the protection of 
this venerable Episcopal edifice, on the same principle that 
cathedrals and abbeys best preserve their ancient features 
in ruinous and decaying towns. 

At the close of the service, which was after the most sim- 
ple Episcopal form, we ascended the old tower to the steeple. 
The church stands on rising ground overlooking the harbor, 




V •. jt ■ .rryp-l 



Water 71MI 



1744- Christ Church Bells. 239 

and the tower and steeple, which are one hundred and sev- 
enty-five feet high, command an extensive view of the city 
and adjoining towns. It was from this steeple that General 
Gage witnessed the battle of Bunker Hill and the burning 
of Charlestown. 

The view from the steeple is rich with subjects for histor- 
ical study. Immediately below and only a few steps from 
the church is Copp's Hill Burying-ground, where lie the re- 
mains of Cotton, Increase, and Samuel Mather, of ecclesias- 
tical fame. The willow that bends over their tomb was cut 
from a tree which shaded the grave of Napoleon at St. Helena. 
Here also repose the relics of some of the most respectable 
colonial families : the Huguenot Sigourneys, Edmund Hatt, 
the builder of the Constitution, the Mountfort family, claiming 
descent from the Norman conquest. It was from Copp's 
Hill that Burgoyne and Clinton directed the fire of the bat- 
tery which set fire to Charlestown at the battle of Bunker 
Hill. 

The harbor lies below with the navy-yard spired with ships. 
Beyond flows the Mystic through wooded hills and past 
steepled towns. Across the long bridge is Bunker Hill Mon- 
ument. On one hand stretches the city as far as the eye can 
see ; on the other the inlets to the bay with the continuous 
dotting of fortifications and islands. 

The bells themselves have an historical interest. They 
were cast in England, and were hung in 1 744. They have 
an aggregate weight of seven thousand two hundred and 
twenty-two pounds. All of them have inscriptions. On the 
first two is some account of the church's early history. On 
the third is the following : — 

" We are the first ring of bells cast for the British Empire in North 
America, A. R. 1744." 

On the fourth : — 

" God preserve the Church of England." 



240 Young Folks History of Boston. 

On the seventh this quiet humor : — 

" Since generosity has opened our mouths, our tongues shall ring 
aloud its praise." 

These chimes have pealed in sunshine and storm for more 
than one hundred and thirty years. 

" Low at times and loud at times, 
And changing like a poet's rhymes, 
Rung the beautiful wild chimes." 

They were at first an unwelcome sound in the colonies, for 
the chimes of motherland had small charms for the practical 
Puritan ear. They rang through the palmy days of the Eng- 
lish Georges : they were revolutionary tones, and they have 
rung through all the republic's years of prosperity and peace. 
Boston has stretched her limits far beyond their sound. But 
no new chime rings out so melodiously, and it is well worth 
a stranger's walk from the Common on a Christmas morning 
to hear the full, joyous, inspiring tones of Christ Church 
bells. 

We have spoken of the First Church, the Old South Church, 
and the Old North Church, all of which are associated with 
interesting historic events. We should add to the list Arling- 
ton Street Church, which is the successor of the first Presby- 
terian Church gathered in Boston. It was founded in 1727, 
and was called Federal Street Church after the Revolution. 
It was in the second house of worship, erected in 1 744, that 
the convention met that ratified the Constitution of the United 
States. It became a Unitarian church and changed its loca- 
tion to Arlington Street. It is one of the most beautiful 
churches of the city. 



" Hail to the morn, when first they stood 

On Bunker's height, 
And, fearless, stemmed the invading flood, 
And wrote our dearest rights in blood, 
And mowed in ranks the hireling brood, 

In desperate fight ! 
Oh, 'twas a proud, exulting day, 
For even our fallen fortunes lay 

In light." 

Percival. 



CHAPTER XIII. 

BUNKER HILL. 

There was to be war. 

After the shattered British regiments came running back 
from Concord the whole country became aware that war was 
at hand ; that the thirteen colonies must unite in it, and that 
the issue was doubtful. 

The British army in Boston was soon reinforced. Howe, 
Clinton, and Burgoyne were the commanders. The farmer- 
soldiers were on the alert, building rude fortifications at places 
more or less remote from the town, which was gradually 
being placed in the condition of siege. On the 15th of June 
the Committee of Public Safety voted to fortify Bunker Hill. 

The work was begun at once, — on the evening of the 
following day. Fourteen hundred infantry troops and a 
company of artillery were ordered to parade on Cambridge 
Common at six o'clock on the evening of the 16th ; twelve 
hundred met at the time appointed ; they listened to a fervent 
prayer from the President of Harvard College, and then 
marched to Charlestown, under General Prescott. 

They carried, besides arms, shovels and dark-lanterns. 

They marched in silence. 

They were ordered to erect earthworks first on Breed's 
Hill. About midnight the work began under the dim light 
of the stars. 

The workmen were so near the enemy, and the night was 
so still, that they could hear the sentinel's cry, " All's well," 



244 Young Folks' History of Boston. 

in the sleeping town across the river. By early morning 
they had raised intrenchments six feet high. 

And now the light slowly brightened in the east, and the 
soldiers began to bestir themselves in the town. 

There was a man-of-war lying in the stream, named the 
Lively. 

When the captain of the Lively came upon deck and 
scanned the pleasant green shore he was greatly astonished 
at the sight which met his eyes. 

" What are the Yankees doing on the hill? " he must have 
asked excitedly. 

"They have built a breastwork," some one undoubtedly 
answered. 

When he was certain that this was the case he did not wait 
for orders as to what to do. 

He at once gave the command, — 

" Fire ! " 

The sound of the guns from the man-of-war threw the town 
into great alarm. The British hurried to the shore and saw 
a fortification menacing them across the narrow stream. 

The red-coats were at once put in motion. Firing on the 
new earthworks began from Copp's Hill. 

The British held a council of war immediately. It was 
decided that an attack must be made on the new earthworks 
as soon as the troops could be set across the stream. 

It was a hot morning, but the tired Americans continued 
their work with the shovels, and at noon, as they saw the 
preparations of the enemy to cross the stream, they knew 
that more dangerous implements must shortly be used. 
They were reinforced, about two o'clock, from the main army 
which was at Cambridge. 

At three o'clock General Howe, at the head of three thou- 
sand men, was ready for the attack. His troops came gayly 
marching up the hill. 




Xm erlcan SVoops. *■■ 
^British Troops- 1 ' I 
Second Position, 'IU".j 
; Do of Guns.. /\ 
T09 9 of 
Iteiniorcemenfc. g 
(Marines 4 47thJ 
■Entrenched Hedge Bow5J"""" J1 
llcdgo Ratri ■■ ■■ .i t 



_S<\-tle of yards 



PLAN OF THE BATTLE OF BUNKER HILL. 



1775- Battle of Bunker Hill. 247 

The colonial troops were short of ammunition. They 
were, however, well officered. General Putnam was there ; 
General Warren ; the brave General Stark. 

" Aim low," was the order given, " and do not fire until 
you see the whites of the enemies' eyes." 

The required distance was at last reached by the enemy. 
The provincials fired with awful effect. The red-coats reeled 
back in confusion. 

The provincials shouted, and thought the battle already 
won. 

General Howe rallied his forces, and again the men faced 
the levelled muskets. 

The scene now became fearful indeed. Charlestown had 
been set on fire in two places, and whole streets were in 
flames. The cannon on Copp's Hill in Boston were throwing 
their heavy iron balls across the river, and the guns of the 
ships-of-war were as active in the stream. 

Amid the roar and smoke the British army advanced, 
with less confidence than before. Again came a raking fire 
from the provincials ; nothing could stand before it, every 
bullet seemed to meet its mark. The enemy reeled back 
again, filled with terror, leaving on the hillside the bodies 
of the slain. 

The British officers swore. They even pricked their men 
with their swords. They knew not what to do. 

General Clinton crossed over from Boston, bringing rein- 
forcements. General Howe resolved to change his plan of 
attack. 

Now there was terror in the provincial ranks, not on 
account of any lack of bravery, but because the ammunition 
was nearly spent. 

" Do not fire a musket until the British are within twenty 
yards," said General Prescott. 

At that distance the provincials poured a deadly volley 



248 Young Folks History of Boston. 

into the ranks of the enemy; the latter wavered, but only 
for a moment. The Red-coats came rushing forward again ; 
the ammunition of the Provincials was gone ; the battle was 
lost. 

The Provincials retreated under the enemy's fire ; at this 
point the brave Warren fell. The survivors returned to Cam- 
bridge, and the British held the hill. 

Night came, and the shadows fell on homes filled with 
anxiety, on the wounded in their sufferings, and on the dead 
whom the green earth was soon to cover. There was small 
joy in the Province House that night, for victory had cost 
the British too great a flow of blood. There was despon- 
dency and distress in Cambridge. The Provincials, after the 
work of the day, there slept their troubled sleep. Merciful 
night ! It was the saddest that Boston ever had known, or 
has ever unto this time seen, — that night of the 1 7th of 
June. 

The Americans had one hundred and fifteen killed and 
three hundred wounded. The British more than two hun- 
dred killed, and more than eight hundred wounded. Such 
was the British victory at Bunker Hill. 



" Though ages long have passed 
Since our fathers left their home, 
Their pilot in the blast, 

O'er untravelled seas to roam, — 
Yet lives the blood of England in our veins ! 
And shall we not proclaim 
That blood of honest fame, 
Which no tyranny can tame 
By its chains ? 

" While the language, free and bold, 
Which the bard of Avon sung, 
In which our Milton told 

How the vault of heaven rung, 
When Satan, blasted, fell with his host; 
While this, with reverence meet, 
Ten thousand echoes greet, 
From rock to rock repeat, 
Round our coast; 

u While the manners, while the arts, 
That mould a nation's soul, 
Still cling around our hearts, 
Between let ocean roll, 
Our joint communion breaking with the sun : 
Yet, still, from either beach, 
The voice of blood shall reach, 
More audible than speech, — 
' We are One ! ' " 

Washington Allston, 



CHAPTER XIV. 

THE SIEGE OF BOSTON. 

The whole country was now alarmed. 

A congress of the colonies was held at Philadelphia; it 
resolved to raise an army of twenty thousand men, and 
George Washington was appointed commander-in-chief. 

On the 2d of June Washington arrived at Watertown, and 
was welcomed by the Committee of Public Safety. On the 
following morning he rode in a phaeton drawn by two horses 
to Cambridge. 

His arrival at Cambridge is thus described in a private 
letter written at the time : — 

"Just before the chief came into town," says the writer, 
" the soldiers stationed here in Cambridge were drawn up in 
a straight line on the Common. It was a very quaint sight 
to behold some seven or eight thousand militia vieing with 
each other in the want of waistcoats and of shoes and stock- 
ings. As you must imagine, there is a chance here for tailors 
and cobblers. 

"The line extended from the elm-tree opposite Deacon 
Moore's house " [the present site of the Shepard Church], 
"which you must not have forgotten, on account of the 
crow's nest, directly eastward. . . . Since the fight in Charles- 
town, the men look more timid than formerly, and some, 
indeed, are quite out of courage. The officers exercise small 
control over the soldiery, and the want of discipline is very 
plain to perceive. . . . 



254 



Young Folks History of Boston. 



" Towards mid-day the chief, riding in a carriage pulled 
by two horses, and escorted by some of the Safety Commit- 
tee, came in sight. The road was crowded with bystanders, 
and the ovation which Washington received must have been 
gratifying to him. 

"As he rode along, he never so much as looked to the 




THE WASHINGTON ELM. 

right or to the left, but kept his head erect, his eyes forward, 
with a demeanor somewhat grave and lofty. In no whit did 
he manifest a familiar air, which conduct some people mis- 
took for haughtiness, which I do not admit. 

" Having advanced near by, the chief mounted a horse, 
received his sword, — it may have been his own, — and rode 
up and down the line, followed by the under officers. There 



a 




W 



a 



m 



1775- Washington takes Command. 2 $7 

was the greatest eagerness to see him and to hear the reading 
of the commission. Washington, by his looks, appeared to 
esteem the army." 

Washington took command of the army under the Old 
Elm on Cambridge Green. It was a king among trees then, 
full of foliage in the glowing midsummer weather. It stands 
on crutches by the wayside to-day, a monarch discrowned, 
but beautiful in age. No one knows how many winters have 
whitened it, and how many summers have clothed it with 
green. Beneath its propped-up boughs is a granite tablet 
that reads, — 

Under This Tree 

WASHINGTON 

First Took Command 

of THE 

AMERICAN ARMY, 

July 3, 1775. 

Washington's headquarters were at first in the old buff- 
colored, gambrel-roofed house which may still be seen just 
east of the Common. In this house Oliver Wendell Holmes 
was born, and here he wrote « Old Ironsides." Washing- 
ton's permanent headquarters was the house now occupied 
by Henry W. Longfellow, a short distance from Harvard 
Square. 

After the battle of Bunker Hill, General Putnam fortified 
Prospect Hill, and covered the town of Cambridge from an 
advance by the enemy. Works had been thrown up on 
Winter Hill ; these were strengthened. All the roads leading 
out of Boston were seized and guarded. The British took 
possession of Dorchester Heights, and strengthened their 
position on Bunker Hill. 

Quiet reigned in the hostile camps. But Boston was 
invested by the Provincials. 

July passed with little action in the field by either army. 

17 



258 



Young Folks History of Boston. 



In i\ugust a reinforcement of fourteen hundred riflemen, 
chiefly backwoodsmen of the Shenandoah Valley, arrived in 
the American camp. In September Washington received 
about three tons of gunpowder from Rhode Island. 

Winter came, a severe one to the Provincials, a terrible 
one to the British in the invested city. Food there became 




THE HOLMES HOUSE. 



scarce and dear ; luxuries there were none ; complaining 
was everywhere heard. To make the supplies last as long as 
possible General Howe sent seven hundred of the poorest 
inhabitants out of the town. To provide fuel he caused 
houses to be demolished. 

Washington, knowing the distress within the town, now 
began to plan an assault upon it. It was decided at a council 



1776. Seizure of Dorchester Heights. 261 

of war to make an attempt to seize Dorchester Heights, and 
thus to bring the enemy directly under the American guns. 

The first thing to be done was to deceive the British in 
regard to the point it was intended to attack. With this 
object, Washington ordered his troops to bombard the town 
from various hills on the west. This attack began on March 
2. It continued for three nights, and the British were com- 
pletely deceived by it, and the Heights were left unpro- 
tected. 

While they were watching the bombardment in the west, 
preparations were rapidly made in the south to advance upon 
the Heights. 

On the night of the 4th of March, a strong detachment, 
under General Thomas, set out from Roxbury* It was a 
hazy but not very cold winter's night. There was little or 
no snow on the ground, which was, however, frozen hard. 

First went eight hundred picked patriots, who acted as a 
covering party. Following these were carts with intrenching 
tools, such as pickaxes and spades ; then came twelve hun- 
dred men, as a working party, to throw up breastworks ; then 
rumbled along two hundred carts, with fascines (fagots for 
building ramparts) and bundles of hay. 

They moved very silently and cautiously ; meanwhile they 
could hear the roar of the cannon in the west, where the 
bombardment to distract the attention of the British was 
going forward. At last they ascended the Heights, creeping 
up its sides. The carts were arranged in convenient spots, 
and the working party took their tools, while the others kept 
guard at various points on the hill. Then a scene similar 
to that on Bunker Hill took place. The task was yet more 
difficult, for it was winter, and the ground was hard. 

The men worked diligently, plying their tools, and piling 
up the hay and fagots, until a long, broad breastwork gradu- 
ally rose on the crest of the Heights. 



262 



Young Folks' History of Boston. 



With the early dawn of morning, the British in Boston 
saw, with amazement and dismay, what had been done in 
the night. There was a sort of fog, which made the breast- 
works seem even greater and more formidable than they 
really were. 

All the hills around were soon covered with spectators. 
General Howe at once saw the great advantage which the 
possession of Dorchester Heights gave to the patriots. From 
them, Washington's guns and mortars commanded the town, 

and might besiege it 




with far better pros- 
pects of success. 

The British General 
decided to lose no time 
in trying to re-take the 
Heights. He chose 
two thousand of his 
best troops, and em- 
barked them on vessels, 
with the object of land- 
ing them below the for- 
tified eminence. 

No sooner had they 
got on board, however, 
than a great tempest of 
wind and furious . rain arose. The ships were driven into 
port again, amid much danger of being lost. Thus the 
patriot cause was served by the elements, just as it was years 
after at Yorktown, where another storm prevented the escape 
of Cornwallis and his army. 

There was now but one thing for the British to do, and 
that was to abandon Boston. General Howe was afraid that 
an assault would be made before he could get his troops 
away ; so he sent a message to Washington, threatening to 



PINE-TREE FLAG. 



H 

> 

c 

JO 
w 

o 

M 
W 




1776. Evacuation of Boston. 265 

burn the town if such an assault was made. Meanwhile the 
patriots went on strengthening and extending their works on 
and around Dorchester Heights; and on the morning of 
March 17, Howe was more than ever alarmed to see that 
breastworks had been raised over night on Nook's Hill, a 
place completely commanding the Neck and the southern 
end of Boston. 

He at once called a council of war, in which it was resolved 
to evacuate Boston without delay. The British soldiers set 
to plundering the linen and woollen shops. They hastily 
spiked their cannons and mortars, which they could not carry 
away with them, and demolished Castle William. 

The ships in the port were made ready for departure. All 
through the night of the 1 7th the good people of Boston 
saw strange movements going on. Troops were marching 
silently through the streets toward the wharves. On the 
wharves all was hurry and bustle. 

Besides the soldiers, very many citizens and their families 
were busily preparing to embark. These were the " Tories," 

— those who took the part of the British in the war, and who 
feared to remain behind among the indignant patriots. 

It was still dark — not quite four o'clock in the morning 

— when the signal was given for the ships to move away 
from the docks ; and slowly and mournfully this fleet, laden 
with Red-coats, rode out of Boston harbor, to enter it no 
more. 

When the morning light came the citizens who crowded 
the streets, with joyful faces, found their beloved town freed 
from the soldiers of King George. 

Already Washington had learned what was going forward, 
and the rear-guard of Howe had scarcely set foot on board 
ship before the patriot advance-guard, with the general-in- 
chief at its head, marched into the town, amid shouts and 
cheers of eager welcome. 



266 Young Folks History of Boston. 

The capture of Boston was hailed throughout the colonies 
with much rejoicing. Congress thanked Washington, and 
ordered a medal to be struck in honor of the event. The 
Massachusetts Legislature passed an address to the com- 
mander, in which it was said, " May you still go on, approved 
by Heaven, revered by all good men, and dreaded by those 
tyrants who claim their fellow-men as their property." 

THE SAD KING. 

We are accustomed to find the name of George III. asso- 
ciated with the word " tyrant " in the early history of our 
country. When the writer was a boy he was taught that 
King George was a very bad man, and he looked upon him 
as a Henry VIII. or James II. 

The king made many stupid political mistakes, or left 
his ministry to make them ; but in his private life George 
III., a name in the days of our fathers always spoken with 
hate, was one of the purest, kindest, and the best of English 
kings. 

His was a sad life, with all of its power and splendor. 

Let me tell you some stories of it, and you will regret that 
so good and so sorely afflicted a king should have been led 
to treat his American colonies with injustice. 

The discipline of insanity has refined many rough natures 
and quickened many cold hearts that otherwise might have 
passed as misanthropes in the world. Among these may 
fairly be classed George III. " Few princes," says Lord 
Brougham, " have been more exemplary in their domestic 
habits or in the offices of private friendship. But the instant 
his prerogative was concerned, or his bigotry interfered with, 
or his will thwarted, the most bitter animosity, the most cal- 
culating coldness of heart, took possession of his breast and 
swayed it by turns." This disposition made him unpopular 



1788. The Sad King. 267 

at times, and but for a correcting providence — the chastise- 
ment of his constantly threatening affliction — might have 
lost him his throne. His frequent mental distresses made 
him humble, and kept his heart open to the unfortunate and 
the poor. Like Lear, he could look upon the meanest of 
his subjects and say, — 

" Expose thyself to feel what wretches feel." 

The king was first attacked by insanity in 1765, when he 
was twenty-seven years old. It was in the spring-time. As 
is usual with the first manifestations of disease of this kind, 
when constitutional, he soon recovered. 

In the latter part of the autumn of 1 788 the king appeared 
to be nervous and restless, unsettled in mind and apprehen- 
sive. He had often been low-spirited in recent years, which 
had been attributed to the loss of his American colonies. 
Returning from a long ride one bright October day, he hur- 
ried by, entered his apartment with an anxious, distressed 
look upon his face, and, flinging himself into a chair, burst 
into tears, exclaiming, " I am going to be mad, and I wish 
to God I might die ! " 

The sufferings of the king during the first apprehensive 
days of his malady were painful to witness, and his conduct 
was most humiliating for the monarch of a realm whose 
empire followed the sun. " He awoke," says one of Sheri- 
dan's correspondents on one occasion, " with all the gestures 
and ravings of a confirmed maniac, and a new noise in imi- 
tation of the howling of a dog." He seemed tempted with 
suicidal thoughts, and required constant watchfulness and 
restraint. " This morning," says one, " he made an attempt 
to jump out of the window, and is now very turbulent and 
incoherent." 

The king grew worse during the last days of fall. On the 
29th of November he was removed to Kew, where he was to 



268 Young Folks History of Boston. 

experience almost unspeakable horrors. Here he grew worse, 
his disease became settled, and the sad particulars of his 
conduct during the dreary months of December and January 
have, perhaps with commendable prudence, been withheld 
from the public eye. 

Distressing indeed must have been the spectacle presented 
by the English monarch at this period of his incapacity ; 
how distressing a single anecdote will show. During his 
convalescence some friends of the royal household were pass- 
ing through the palace accompanied by an equerry, when 
they observed a strait-jacket lying in a chair. The equerry 
averted his look as a mark of respect for the king. The lat- 
ter, who had joined the company present, observed the 
movement and said, — 

" You need not be afraid to look at it. Perhaps it is the 
best friend I ever had in my life." 

The recovery of the king from his second attack thrilled 
the nation with joy and awakened a spirit of loyalty from sea 
to sea. London, on the night following the day on which 
the king resumed his functions, was a blaze of light from the 
palaces of the West End to the humblest huts in the suburbs. 
But the great illumination was a rising splendor, which only 
had its beginning here ; it flashed like a spontaneous joy 
over all the cities of the realm. Gala days followed gala 
days, the nights were festive ; the release of the king from 
his mental bondage seemed to lighten all hearts. On the 
23d of April the royal family went to the old cathedral of St. 
Paul's in solemn state to return thanks to God. It was an 
imposing procession. The bells rung out, the boom of the 
cannon echoed through the mellowing air, and light strains 
of music rose on every hand. As the king entered the 
cathedral between the bishops of London and Lincoln, the 
voices of five thousand children burst forth in grand chorus, 
" God save the king ! " 




GEORGE III, 



1789- The Sad King. 271 

At the sound of the jubilant strain, the king's emotions 
overcame him. He covered his face and wept. 

" I do now feel that I have been ill," he said to the Bishop 
of London, as soon as he could restrain his tears. 

The joy of the nation was sincere. As delightful to the 
king must have been the days that followed, when he set 
forth with the queen and a part of the royal family for a long 
tour to the west of England. The roads were lined with 
people and spanned with arches of flowers ; girls crowned 
with wreaths strewed flowers in the streets of the villages 
through which he passed ; bells were rung, the bands were 
out, all was festivity from London to Weymouth. Wide 
must have been the contrast between this new freedom and 
good Dr. Willis's strait-jacket. 

Weymouth at this time possessed rare charms for the king. 
Unvexed by ministerial disputes and the cares of state, free 
from the last shadow of the clouds that had darkened his 
mind, with a humble heart, feeling that he was after all but a 
dependent man among weak and dependent men, he joined 
the peasants in their sports, he caressed their children, he 
gave pious advice to old women and wholesome counsel to 
ambitious lads and buxom lassies ; he wandered through the 
hay-fields with the mowers, and was rocked by the common 
sailors on the foamy waters of Portland Roads. His inter- 
course with the peasantry at this period gave him a popu- 
larity that he never outlived. 

The familiarity of notable monarchs with their poorer and 
meaner subjects has ever been an engaging theme with the 
historian and the poet. Thus we have the child-charming 
stories of Henry VIII. and the miller of Dee ; of King John 
and the abbot ; of Edward IV. and the tanner ■ of Philip of 
Burgundy and the tinker, which, with some shifting of scenes, 
is told in the Induction to Shakespeare's Taming of the 
Shrew. About few monarchs have so many pleasing anec- 



272 Young Folks History of Boston. 

botes of this kind been related as about George III. This 
humility was a result of his great afflictions, and a most fortu- 
nate one for his popularity, since in the eyes of the people 
his charity covered a multitude of political errors. 

After the first beating of the storm of affliction upon his 
own head, he had a sensitiveness that would never allow him 
to witness a scene of suffering without emotion, however 
humble might be the condition of the sufferer. A volume 
of anecdotes might be collected to illustrate this gentleness 
of character when want or woe was presented directly before 
him. He was walking one day, during the hard winter of 1 785, 
unbending his mind from the cares of state, when he chanced 
to meet two little boys, who, not knowing whom they were 
addressing, fell upon their knees in the snow, and, wringing 
their hands, said, — 

" Help us ! We are hungry ; we have nothing to eat." 

Their pinched faces were wet with tears. 

" Get up," said the king. " Where do you live? " 

" Our mother is dead, and our father lies sick, and we 
have no money, food, or fire." 

" Go home," said the king, " and I will follow you." 

They at last reached a wretched hovel, where the king 
found the mother dead, having perished for the want of the 
necessities of life, and the wretched father ready to perish, 
but still encircling with his bony arm the deceased partner 
of his woes. The king's eye moistened, and he hurried back 
to the Queen's Lodge and related to the queen what he had 
seen. He not only immediately relieved the present neces- 
sities of the family, but gave orders that the boys should be 
supported and educated from the royal bounty. 

George III. was fond of children. All crazy people are, 
in their better moods. Walking one day near Windsor, he 
met a stable-boy, and asked, — 

" Well, boy, what do you do, and what do they pay you ? " 







& ^a »C k 

& fe § » 






*> 



U 



^ 



III 

* g r- 



^ 



1800. The Sad King. 273 

" I help in the stable, sir ; but they only give me my 
victuals and clothes." 

" Be content/"' said the king, in a philosophical mood : 
"/can have nothing more." 

He was accustomed to refer to " the loss of my American 
colonies " with sadness, but we do not know that he ever 
condemned the policy of his advisers, Lord Bute, the Earl 
of Granville, and Lord North. 

The king surpassed all other monarchs in the whimsical 
play of " good Haroun Alraschid." He loved nothing bet- 
ter than to meet his poorer and meaner subjects incognito, 
and learn their good opinion of him. He once played the 
part of Saxon Alfred as well as that of the Persian caliph, 
and turned a piece of meat in a cottage. When the old 
woman returned, what was her delight at finding a royal note, 
with an inclosure. It ran, " Five guineas to buy a jack." 

Among the statesmen of his reign favorable to the Ameri- 
can cause were Fox, Pitt, and Burke. The Earl of Chatham 
was a friend to America until France espoused the cause of 
the colonies. He fell dead while speaking on the American 
question. 

Age as well as trouble at last battered the strong form of 
the king, and his life became more Lear-like as the twilight 
shadows began to fall. His sympathies seemed to take a 
wider range, and his charity to gather new sweetness, as the 
evening of age came on. In 1786 a poor insane woman, 
named Margaret Nicholson, attempted to assassinate him as 
he was in the act of stepping from his carriage. The king, 
on finding that she was insane, remembered his own frailty, 
spoke of her with great pity, and tried to disarm the popular 
prejudice against her. In 1790 John Frith, an insane man, 
attempted the king's life, and another lunatic shot at him in 
1800, for each of whom the king was moved to extreme pity 
when he understood the nature of their malady. 

18 



274 Young Folks History of Boston. 

George III. had fifteen children. His favorite was the 
Princess Amelia. In her early days she was a gay, light- 
hearted girl ; but as she grew older she became affectionate 
and reflective, yielding to the deeper sentiments of her emo- 
tional nature, and making herself the companion of the king 
in his decline. She once told her experience in life in two 
fair stanzas, that have been preserved : — 

" Unthinking, idle, wild, and young, 
I laughed and danced and talked and sung, 
And, proud of health, of freedom vain, 
Dreamed not of sorrow, care, or pain, 
Concluding, in those hours of glee, 
That all the world was made for me. 

" But when the hour of trial came, 

When sickness shook this trembling frame, 
When folly's gay pursuits were o'er, 
And I could sing and dance no more, 
It then occurred how sad 't would be 
Were this world only made for me." 

In 1810 she was attacked with a lingering and fatal illness. 
Her sufferings at times were heart-rending to witness, but 
her sublime confidence in God kept her mind serene, and 
brought the sweetest anticipations of another and a better 
world. 

The old king lingered by her bedside, her affectionate 
watcher and nurse. They talked together daily of Christ, of 
redemption, and of the joys of heaven. " The only hope of 
the sinner is in the blood and righteousness of Jesus Christ. 
Do you feel this hope, my daughter? Does it sustain 
you?" 

" Nothing," says an English clergyman who witnessed 
these interviews, " can be more striking than the sight of the 
king, aged and nearly blind, bending over the couch on 



i8ii. The Sad King. 275 

which the princess lies, and speaking to her of salvation 
through Christ as a matter far more interesting than the most 
magnificent pomps of royalty." 

As she grew weaker, he caused the physicians to make a 
statement of her condition every hour. When he found her 
sinking, the old dejection and gloom began to overcast his 
mind again. He felt, like Lear, that he had one true heart to 
love him for himself alone. This love was more precious to 
him than crowns and thrones. The world offered nothing to 
him so sweet as her affection. She was his Cordelia. One 
gloomy day a messenger came to the king's room to announce 
that Amelia had breathed her last. It was too much for the 
king : reason began to waver and soon took its flight. " This 
was caused by poor Amelia," he was heard saying, as the 
shadows deepened and the dreary winter of age came stealing 

on. 

" Thou 'It come no more, 
Never, never, never, never, never ! " 

This was in 18 10. The remaining ten years of his life 
were passed, with the exception of few brief intervals, in the 
long night of mindlessness, and the last eight years were still 
more deeply shadowed by the loss of sight. In May, 181 1, 
he appeared once outside of the castle of Windsor, and 
henceforth the people saw him no more. Thackeray repre- 
sents him as withdrawn from all eyes but those that watched 
his necessities, in silence and in darkness, crownless, throne- 
less, sceptreless ; there was for him neither sun, moon, nor 
stars, empire, wife, nor child. The seasons came and went. 
— the springtime lighted up the hills and autumn withered 
the leaves, the summer sunshine dreamed in the flowers and 
the snows of winter fell ; battles were fought ; Waterloo 
changed the front of the political world ; Napoleon fell ; the 
nation was filled with festive rejoicings over the battles of 
Vittoria, the Pyrenees, and Toulouse, but he was oblivious 



276 Young Folks History of Boston. 

of all. His sister died, his beloved queen died, his son, the 
Duke of Kent, died, — but he knew it not. He was often 
confined in a padded room ; his beard grew long ; he seemed 
like a full personification of the character of Lear. Once he 
was heard repeating to himself the sad lines of Samson 
Agonistes, — 

" Oh, dark, dark, dark ! Amid the blaze of noon, 
Irrecoverably dark ! Total eclipse, 
Without all hope of day ! " 

Some incidents of this period are very touching. One day, 
while his attendants were leading him along one of the pas- 
sages of the castle, he heard some one draw quickly aside. 
"Who is there?" asked the king. 

He was answered in a well-known voice. 

" I am now blind," said the king. 

" I am very sorry, please your Majesty." 

" But," continued the king, " I am quite resigned ; for 
what have we to do in this world but to suffer as well as to 
perform the will of the Almighty?" 

Music seemed to collect his thoughts and soothe his feel- 
ings, and the piano and harpsichord were his favorite instru- 
ments. In 181 1 he, for the last time, made the selection of 
pieces for a grand sacred concert. It comprised Handel's 
famous passages descriptive of madness and blindness, the 
lamentation of Jephthah on the loss of his daughter, and the 
list ended with " God save the King." The performance of 
the last moistened all eyes, after what had gone before. 

Thus passed the last ten years of the monarch's life, in a 
gradual decline, amid an obscurity lighted by occasional 
gleams of reason and always full of the keenest pathos ; 
until, in 1820, the great bell of St. Paul's announced his 
final release. 

The popularity of George III. in England was largely due 




r*w mum a 
-*&r- | IB! 



(Oft 



i82o. The Sad King. 279 

to his humble piety, and to his familiarity with his poorer 
and meaner subjects. Each of these characteristics was the 
result, in a measure, of his mental misfortunes. It was be- 
cause the king never dared to forget that he was a man, that 
the people always loved to remember that he was a king. 



" The torch of freedom God has lit 
Burns upward for the Infinite, 
And through all hindrances it will 
And must and shall burn upward still ; 
And all whose hands would hold the torch 
Inverted, must to ashes scorch ; 
And they who stay its heavenward aim 
Shall shrivel, like the fly, in flame ! " 

Gerald Massey. 



CHAPTER XV. 

THE STORY OF HOLLIS STREET MEETING-HOUSE AND 
CURIOUS OLD MATHER BYLES, THE ROYALIST. 




You may see 
the tall spire of the 
new Hollis Street 
Church from al- 
most any point of 
the city. The Stars 
and Stripes used to 
wave from it in the 
days of the war. 

This church is 
as a monument to 
several men in Bos- 
ton's history. Here 
John Pierpont fought his grand battle for temperance against 
the wealthy members of his society who stored their wine- 
casks even in the church's cellar. Here Starr King poured 
forth his fiery eloquence, — a man who had the heart of 
hearts, and whom Whittier in his sonnet to him well says was 
beloved as few men ever were, and for whom Mt. Starr King is 
an eternal memorial. 

Most people are familiar with one or more of Pierpont's 
poems, and have seen them, if nowhere else, in that wonder- 
ful patron of poetic fame, — the reading-book. We seldom 
see Hollis Street Church spire without recalling a poem of 



THE OLD HOLLIS STREET CHURCH. 



284 Young Folks' History of Boston. 

this writer, which seems to have come to him like an inspira- 
tion. He became pastor of the church in 1819. Our own 
country was just entering upon an era of peace and prosper- 
ity, and all eyes were turned to the political events of Europe, 
where the throne of Napoleon had lately fallen. The mili- 
tary pageant of France was being withdrawn from the eyes of 
the world, and the nations were fast undoing all Napoleon 
had done. The Emperor himself died, and was buried at 
St. Helena amid the solitudes of the sea, where he had passed 
his last unquiet years. 

Pierpont's heart was in human progress, and the fall of 
Napoleon seemed to him an impressive commentary on the 
instability of military glory. Many poets were inspired to 
take a text from Napoleon's fall, but Pierpont caught the true 
spirit of the event, as Byron did of Waterloo, and there is 
hardly anything in the language more fine than his lines en- 
titled — 

NAPOLEON AT REST. 

His falchion flashed along the Nile; 

His hosts he led through Alpine snows ; 
O'er Moscow's towers, that blazed the while, 

His eagle flag unrolled, — and froze. 

Here sleeps he now, alone ! Not one 

Of all the kings whose crowns he gave 
Bends o'er his dust ; — nor wife nor son 

Has ever seen or sought his grave. 

Behind this sea-girt rock, the star 

That led him on from crown to crown 
Has sunk ; and nations from afar 

Gazed as it faded and went down. 

High is his couch ; the ocean flood, 

Far, far below, by storms is curled ; 
As round him heaved, while high he stood, 

A stormy and unstable world. 



1777- Mather Byles. 287 

Alone he sleeps ! The mountain cloud, 
That night hangs round him, and the breath 

Of morning scatters, is the shroud 

That wraps the conqueror's clay in death. 

Pause here ! The far-off world, at last, 

Breathes free ; the hand that shook its thrones, 

And to the earth its mitres cast, 

Lies powerless now beneath these stones. 

Hark ! comes there, from the pyramids, 

And from Siberian wastes of snow, 
And Europe's hills, a voice that bids 

The world he awed to mourn him? — No: 

The only, the perpetual dirge 

That 's heard there is the sea-birds' cry, 
The mournful murmur of the surge, 

The cloud's deep voice, the wind's low sigh. 

The first pastor of Hollis Street Church was a poet, curious 
old Mather Byles, who assumed his clerical duties in 1733. 
He was a very popular minister before the Revolution, and 
he had an English as well as European reputation as a poet, 
and numbered among his correspondents Lansdown, Dr. 
Watts, and Pope, the latter of whom sent him one of the 
first copies of his translation of the Odyssey. 

Byles declared himself a Tory at the beginning of the Rev- 
olution, and his reputation immediately vanished. In 1777 
he was denounced in Boston town-meeting, and was ordered 
to be confined in his own house, which stood at the corner 
of Nassau and Tremont Streets, and a guard was stationed 
over his door. The guard was accustomed to pace backward 
and forward in a pompous way, as though performing a duty 
of very great responsibility. 

One day Byles came to the door and asked him to go on 
an errand for him. 



288 



Young Folks History of Boston. 




" I will stand guard while you are gone," said he, taking 
the sentinel's gun, and pacing back and forth in front of his 

own house in the same 
important way the guard 
had done. The senti- 
nel did the errand, and 
in the meantime Byles 
excited the laughter of 
every one on the street 
by the way in which 
he stood guard over 
himself and his house. 
Another guard was 
appointed who could 
not be persuaded to 
change places with 
the man he was guard- 
ing, and at last, the 
thing becoming quite 
ridiculous, the guard 
was removed entirely. When Byles saw this he said, — 

" I have been guarded, reguarded, and now I am disre- 
garded," and disregarded he lived to the end of his life. 

Old-time Boston was full of anecdotes of this witty parson, 
and an early Boston poet has left the following photograph 
of him in two rather acrimonious stanzas : — 

' • Here 's punning Byles provokes our smiles, 
A man of stately parts, 
He visits folks to crack his jokes, N 

Which never mend their hearts. 

" With strutting gait and wig so great 
He walks along the streets, 
And throws out wit, or what 's like it, 
To every one he meets." 



JVLtUs tty&J 



1777- Mather Byles. 289 

In 1780 the famous Dark Day occurred, and a frightened 
lady sent her son to Parson Byles to inquire the cause of the 
appalling obscurity. 

" I don't know," said Byles, whose habit of joking was too 
chronic to be set aside even at the prospect of the near ap- 
proach of the judgment day. " Go home and tell your mother 
I am just as much in the dark as she is." 

When the great religious awakening in England, under the 
preaching of the Wesleys and Whitefield, began to. excite the 
attention of the colonies, the Methodists were known in this 
country as " New Lights," and Methodist revivals were called 
the New Light stir. One day a ship arrived in Boston har- 
bor with three hundred street-lamps, and on the same day a 
gossiping lady called on Dr. Byles, whose visit he wished to 
cut short by some startling intelligence. 

" Have you heard the news? " he asked of his visitor. 

"What news?" asked the lady. 

" Three hundred new lights have just arrived in a ship 
from London, and the selectmen have ordered them to be 
put in irons," which astonishing bit of news, we suppose, the 
good woman spread through the town. 

He once courted a lady who refused his hand and married 
a man by the name of Quincy. He met her after her mar- 
riage and greeted her blandly : — 

"So it seems, madam, that you prefer the Quincy to 
Byles." 

"Yes," said the lady, "for if there had been any affliction 
worse than Byles, God would have sent it upon Job." 

He remarked, on seeing the lower tier of windows in King's 
Chapel, which were in his day the same as now, " I have 
often heard of the canons of the church, but I never heard 
of the port- holes before." 

But though he was so witty in conversation, his poetry has 
much of dignity and strength. For example, take his New 
England Hymn : — 



290 Young Folks History of Boston. 

" To Thee the tuneful anthem soars, 
To Thee, our fathers' God and ours, 

This wilderness we chose our seat ; 
To rights secured by equal laws 
From persecution's iron claws, 

We here have sought our calm retreat. 

" See ! how the flocks of Jesus rise, 
See ! how the face of Paradise 

Blooms through the thickets of the wild. 
Here Liberty erects her throne ; 
Here Plenty pours her treasures down ; 

Peace smiles, as heavenly cherubs mild. 

" Lord, guard thy favors ; Lord, extend 
Where further western suns descend ; 

Nor southern seas the blessings bound ; 
Till Freedom lift her cheerful head, 
Till pure Religion, onward spread, 

And beaming, wrap the world around." 

Near Hollis Street Church, in the house where Byles lived, 
his two eccentric daughters continued to live until 1835. 
These ladies remained Royalists until the day of their death. 
They used to go to church in the dresses of the last century, 
they blew their fire with the old-time colonial bellows, and 
ate from the table from which Franklin had used to take his 
tea. In 1835 tne C ^Y ordered a part of the house to be 
taken down, in order to widen the street, which caused one 
of these ancient ladies so much grief that she is said to have 
died in consequence. 



" O, is not this a holy spot ? 

'T is the high place of Freedom's birth ! 
God of our fathers, is it not 
The holiest spot of all the earth ? 

" Quenched is thy flame on Horeb's side ; 
The robber roams o'er Sinai now ; 
And those old men, thy seers, abide 
No more on Zion's mournful brow. 

" But on this hill thou, Lord, hast dwelt 

Since round its head the war-cloud curled, 
And wrapped our fathers, where they knelt 
In prayer and battle for a world. 

" Here sleeps their dust : 't is holy ground, 
And we, the children of the brave, 
From the four winds are gathered round, 
To lay our offering on their grave. 

" Free as the winds around us blow, 
Free as the waves below us spread, 
We rear a pile that long shall throw 
Its shadow on their sacred bed. 

" But on their deeds no shade shall fall 

While o'er their couch thy sun shall flame, 
Thine ear was bowed to hear their call, 
And thy right hand shall guard their fame." 
On laying the Comer-Stone of the Bunker Hill Monument. — Pierpont. 



CHAPTER XVI. 

FREEDOM AND PROSPERITY. 

The evacuation of Boston was the end of the Revolutionary 
War on the soil of that city. The colonies declared their 
independence in 1776, and the contest for liberty went on 
with varying fortunes until the surrender of Lord Cornwallis 
at Yorktown, but Massachusetts blood was shed elsewhere 
and not here. 

The government of the colony now returned to its primi- 
tive form, — the election of a Legislature, or General Court, by 
the people, to manage all public affairs. In 1780 Massachu- 
setts adopted a constitution, and under it John Hancock was 
elected governor. 

Peace between England and America was declared in 1782. 
In 1787 the United States Constitution was framed, and 
under it George Washington was elected President in 1 789. 

The same year Washington, shortly after his election, 
visited Boston, and was received with great rejoicing. 

In 1822 Boston became a city. 

Lafayette, the friend of Washington, whose coming to 
America during the Revolution gave hope to the colonies in 
the darkest period of the contest, and who rendered America 
great service both in councils of war and on the battle-field, 
visited Boston in 1825, and in his presence the corner-stone 
of Bunker Hill Monument was laid, on the 1 7th June. 

The scene on that day was not forgotten by the generation 



294 Young Folks History of Boston. 

that witnessed it. Mr. Frothingham, in his History of the 
Siege of Boston, vividly describes the day and a part of the 
ceremony : — 

" This celebration was unequalled in magnificence by any- 
thing of the kind that had been seen in New England. The 
morning proved propitious. The air was cool, the sky was 
clear, and timely showers the previous day had brightened 
the vesture of Nature into its loveliest hue. 

" Delighted thousands flocked into Boston to bear a part 
in the proceedings, or to witness the spectacle. At about 
ten o'clock a procession moved from the State House towards 
Bunker Hill. The military, in their fine uniforms, formed the 
van. About two hundred veterans of the Revolution, of whom 
forty were survivors of the battle, rode in barouches next to 
the escort. These venerable men, the relics of a past gener- 
ation, with emaciated frames, tottering limbs, and trembling 
voices, constituted a touching spectacle. Some wore, as hon- 
orable decorations, their old fighting equipments, and some 
bore the scars of still more honorable wounds. Glistening 
eyes constituted their answer to the enthusiastic cheers of the 
grateful multitudes who lined their pathway and cheered their 
progress. 

" To this patriot band succeeded the Bunker Hill Monu- 
ment Association ; then the Masonic Fraternity, in their splen- 
did regalia, thousands in number \ then Lafayette, continually 
welcomed by tokens of love and gratitude, and the invited 
guests ; then a long array of societies, with their various badges 
and banners. It was a splendid procession, and of such 
length that the front nearly reached Charlestown Bridge ere 
the rear had left Boston Common. It proceeded to Breed's 
Hill, where the Grand Master of the Freemasons, the Presi- 
dent of the Monument Association, and General Lafayette 
performed the ceremony of laying the corner-stone in the 
presence of a vast concourse of people." 



1825. Daniel Webster s Oration. 295 

Daniel Webster, then at the beginning of his great fame, 
delivered the oration. It was one of the finest products of 
American eloquence. In closing, he said, — 

" We come, as Americans, to mark the spot which must 
forever be dear to us and our posterity. We wish that who- 
soever, in all coming time, shall turn his eye hither, may be- 
hold that the place is not undistinguished where the first 
great battle of the Revolution was fought. We wish that this 
structure may proclaim the magnitude and importance of that 
event to every class and every age. We wish that infancy may 
learn the purpose of its erection from maternal lips, and that 
wearied and withered age may behold it, and be solaced by 
the recollections which it suggests. We wish that labor may 
look up here and be proud in the midst of its toil. We 
wish that in those days of disaster, which, as they come on 
all nations, must be expected to come on us also, desponding 
patriotism may turn its eyes hitherward and be assured that 
the foundations of our national power still stand strong. 

" We wish that this column, rising toward heaven among 
the pointed spires of so many temples dedicated to God, may 
contribute also to produce in all minds a pious feeling of de- 
pendence and gratitude. We wish, finally, that the last object 
on the sight of him who leaves his native shore, and the 
first to gladden his who revisits it, may be something which 
shall remind him of the liberty and the glory of his country. 
Let it rise till it meet the sun in his coming ; let the earliest 
light of the morning gild it, and parting day linger and play 
on its summit ! " 

Rev. Ray Palmer, then a youth, was present, and he has 
kindly allowed us to republish his recollections of the event. 



296 Young Folks History of Boston. 

MEMORIES OF BUNKER HILL. — JUNE I 7, 1 825. 

Of those who were present when the corner-stone of the 
Bunker Hill Monument was laid, more than half a century 
ago, but few, comparatively, now survive. 

Lafayette, the hero of two worlds, died in a good old age 
not many years after. Daniel Webster, the illustrious orator 
and statesman, worn out with public labors, was many years 
since laid in his sepulchre. 

All the then surviving participators in the scenes of the 
Revolution have passed away. A limited number only, it is 
probable, even of those who constituted the younger part of 
the vast assembly gathered there, still live and keep in mem- 
ory the details of what was done. 

It has been suggested to the writer, who was himself pres- 
ent, and retains the freshest recollection of persons and 
things, that a brief account of the occurrences of that inter- 
esting day would be a valuable piece of history. Such a 
sketch — of course it must be little more than an outline — 
he will accordingly attempt to give. 

First of all, we may bring back in our thought the Boston 
and the Charlestown of that date. 

Boston had only some three years before been made a city, 
with a population of not far from fifty thousand. Its business 
area was comparatively small. Immediately in the rear of 
the State House, and forming the top of Beacon Hill, there 
was a large field or common, since graded away, but then 
flat, and serving as a play-ground for the lovers of base-ball. 

The street at the east end of the State House was in the 
condition of a country road, strewed with boulders and loose 
stones, with a rough bank on either side. 

Between the city and the village of Roxbury there was 
quite a piece of country road called the Neck, with here and 
there a house, and the water of the South Cove and the West 










u&*' 



*AxiU^ 



LAFAYETTE. 



1825. Memories of Btmker Hill. 299 

Bay visible at a short distance on either hand. But one bridge 
— the old wooden Charlestown Bridge — connected Boston 
with Charlestown, which was not then a city. 

Both the heights of the latter town, the one on which the 
battle was fought, and the higher one to the northward, were 
almost entirely naked fields. At the southwest part of the 
battle-hill the houses pressed close around the base ; but the 
whole battle-ground and all the eastern and northeastern slope 
were as bare as when the shots from the British fleet in the 
Mystic River swept over them on the eventful day whose 
deeds are enshrined in history. It is only by recalling the 
surroundings as they were that one can get a clear conception 
of the scene presented on the 17th of June, 1825, and feel 
the contrast between that time and the present. 

The whole country anticipated the occasion with the most 
lively interest, and many came from great distances to attend 
the celebration. 

I was at that time a student in Phillips Academy, Ando- 
ver. With two or three classmates I obtained leave of ab- 
sence, and retiring immediately after tea for a few hours 
sleep, we set out at about twelve o'clock and walked to 
Boston, reaching the city by seven in the morning. The his- 
toric memories of the great battle, the fame of the already 
renowned orator, the presence of Lafayette, the companion 
and trusted friend of Washington, — these were enough to 
set youthful hearts aglow, and to awaken an almost romantic 
enthusiasm. We were destined to no disappointment. 

The procession moved over from the summit to the north- 
eastern side of the hill. A platform had been erected far 
down the slope and covered with a tent open on the side 
towards the ascent. 

There the different sections of the long array were seated 
in order, rank rising above rank, and covering the hillside so 
as to form a vast amphitheatre. It was, indeed, as Webster 



30o 



Young Folks History of Boston. 



said in his first sentence, an "uncounted multitude" on 
which the orator looked when he ascended to his position. 

He himself was then only in his forty-fourth year, and in 
the perfection of that nobleness of person and dignity of bear- 
ing for which he was so renowned. With Lafayette by his 
side, and surrounded by so many of the survivors of the des- 
perate struggle on the spot where now they stood, and of 

other battle-fields of the 
Revolution, and by a 
multitude of the most 
illustrious men of the 
state and country, there 
was nothing wanting 
which could lend im- 
pressiveness to the oc- 
casion. Altogether it 
was a scene which no 
one who witnessed was 
likely ever to forget. 

It was my good for- 
tune, in the seating of 
the procession, to push 
my way in boyish fash- 
ion to a seat on the 
grass among the highest 
order of Masons, directly in front of Mr. Webster, and not 
more than sixty or seventy feet from him. 

I was in a position to see perfectly his great glowing eyes 
and every play of thought and emotion on his face, and to 
hear every syllable from first to last. When he rose to speak 
there was absolute silence, notwithstanding the multitude. 

A considerable space was left him on the front of the plat- 
form ; a small table was set ten feet or more from the place 
where he chiefly stood to speak, and on this he laid his 




DANIEL WEBSTER. 



1825. Memories of Bunker Hill. 301 

manuscript unopened. The entire address was committed 
to memory ; but now and then when he had finished some 
grand passage, while waiting for the resounding applauses to 
subside, he would walk slowly to the table and turn his leaves 
to the point which he had reached in his discourse. 

The impression made by his general manner was that of 
perfect self-command. Not a nervously hurried look or mo- 
tion disturbed the reposeful bearing. His voice at that period 
of his life was exactly one's ideal, — deep, clear, full, flexible, 
capable of great power without losing its natural quality, and 
sympathetically responsive to his emotions. He began on a 
natural key, but spoke so deliberately and with such distinct- 
ness of articulation that he seemed to be heard to the outmost 
lines of the assembly. 

His speaking, in the variety of its intonations, was like a 
magnificent talk from first to last ; rising often into the noblest 
elocution, but never passing into that declamatory and mo- 
notonous vociferation into which so many public speakers 
fall. Making every allowance for youthful susceptibility, I 
cannot but believe that few orators, in any age, have furnished 
a finer specimen of discursive eloquence than this. 

It seems to me some evidence of this that after almost 
fifty-four years many passages of that oration, with the exact 
tone and emphasis and gesture with which they were pro- 
nounced, remain as fresh in my memory as though I had 
heard them only yesterday. 

The clear and silvery ring of the voice, when he cried, 
" Let it rise ! — let it rise, till it meet the sun in his coming ; 
let the earliest light of the morning gild it, and parting 
day linger and play on its summit ! " still echoes in my ear. 

I still seem to hear him say to the veteran survivors of the 
battle, as they stood, warworn and infirm, before him, — 
" Venerable men ! ... the same heavens are indeed over 
your heads ; the same ocean rolls at your feet ; but all else, 
how changed ! " 



302 Young Folks History of Boston. 

I still feel the inimitable tenderness of the minor key in 
which he uttered the pathetic apostrophe to Warren : " But 
ah ! him ! the first great martyr in this great cause ! Him ! the 
premature victim of his own self-devoting heart ! . . . Our 
poor work may perish, but thine shall endure ! this monu- 
ment may moulder away, the solid ground it rests upon may 
sink down to a level with the sea ; but thy memory shall not 
fail ! " 

I still feel the thrill stirred by the majestic power of voice 
and action with which, in allusion to Greece, then in her rev- 
olutionary struggle, he said, " If the true spark of religious 
and civil liberty be kindled, it will burn. Human agency 
cannot extinguish it. Like the earth's central fire, it may be 
smothered for a time ; the ocean may overwhelm it ; moun- 
tains may press it down ; but its inherent and unconquerable 
force will heave both the ocean and the land, and at some 
time or other, in some place or other, the volcano will break 
out and flame up to heaven." 

Such are some of the recollections of the scenes connected 
with the laying of the corner-stone of the monument on Bun- 
ker Hill. No intelligent young man or woman, it would 
seem, can recall them, and read Mr. Webster's grand oration, 
without a deeper sense of the value of our free, civil and reli- 
gious institutions, and the price they cost our venerated an- 
cestors. 

MONUMENT GROUNDS. 

The beautiful grounds on which Bunker Hill Monument 
stands retain not a vestige of the fortifications of 1 775. A flat 
granite stone marks the place of the breastworks, and another, 
nearly at the foot of the grounds, the spot where Warren fell. 
The base of the monument stands on the spot of Prescott's 
famous ditch, which was dug on the starry night in June, just 



1825. Monument Groimds. 303 

before the battle. The fosse and breastworks were quite 
prominent at the time the foundation of the monument was 
laid by Lafayette, in 1825, but the building of so stupendous 
a structure of granite on the spot caused them to be levelled 
and obliterated. 

A few incidental facts about the monument may be of in- 
terest to the stranger. The foundation is composed of six 
courses of stone, and extends twelve feet below the surface of 
the ground. There are in the whole pile ninety courses 
of granite blocks. The base of the obelisk is thirty feet 
square, and fifteen feet at the spring of the apex. The num- 
ber of steps in the spiral stone stairway is two hundred and 
ninety-five. The cap-piece of the apex, which crowns the 
whole at an elevation of two hundred and twenty-one feet, 
consists of a single stone, weighing two and a half tons. 

The historical relics in the monument consist of a beautiful 
model of Warren's statue, which was erected over the spot 
where the General fell, and two cannon in the chamber of 
the obelisk, which were used during the war, and on which is 
inscribed their own history. 

The remains of Warren were interred at the place where 
he fell. Here a monument was erected in 1794, of which 
the model is seen in the monument on the inside at the base. 
After the evacuation of Boston the patriot's body was disin- 
terred, and removed with impressive ceremonies to King's 
Chapel. The body was again removed to St. Paul's Church 
on Tremont Street, and now rests at Forest Hills. 



CAMBRIDGE CHURCHYARD. 

The monument to the patriots who fell in 1775 is in Cam- 
bridge Churchyard. 

It is a lovely spot, full of historic associations, and we will 
speak of it here. 



304 



Young Folks History of Boston. 



The Vassal family sleep here, who built two stately man- 
sions in Cambridge, one of which is known as the Vassal 
House, now the residence of Professor Longfellow. The 
tomb of the Vassal family, which is celebrated in Holmes's 
poetry, is marked by a freestone tablet supported by five 
pillars, on which are the sculptured reliefs of a vase and the 
sun, — Vas, in the Latin, meaning a vase, and So/, the sun, 
and Vas Sol representing the ancient emblems of the family. 
Here is the resting-place of the poet-artist, Washington 
Allston, in the old Dana tomb, where he was interred by 
torch-light one quiet midsummer eve in 1843. 

Allston entered upon his life-work with a religious enthusi- 
asm that ennobled his personal character. It is said that 




WASHINGTON IRVING. 



when he first went to England to study painting he on one 
occasion sold a certain picture to a nobleman to meet his 
pressing necessities. After he parted with the picture, the 



l8o 5- Irving and A I Is ton. 305 

thought came to him that the moral influence of it on a per- 
son with a perverted taste and prurient imagination might not 
be good ; the thought haunted him and so wrought upon his 
sensitive conscience that he went to the nobleman and re- 
purchased the picture. 

Washington Irving was an intimate friend of Allston in his 
youth ; they were in Italy at the same time ; they visited the 
studios of Rome together, and made arm-and-arm walks to 
those relics of antiquity that recall the Rome of the Caesars. 
Irving has left a most beautifully written account of his old 
friend, in which he describes his affectionate, enthusiastic dis- 
position, and the awe and reverence with which he beheld the 
pictures of the old masters, or walked about the stupendous 
pile of St. Peter's where art looked down on every hand. 
"His eyes would dilate," said Irving, "his pale countenance 
would flush ; he would breathe quick, and almost gasp, in 
expressing his feelings when excited by almost any object 
of grandeur and sublimity." 

The old house stands in Cambridgeport where he lived ; 
and the magnificent picture of Belshazzar's Feast, on which 
he spent the last week and the last day of his life, may be 
seen at the Art Museum. 

The old-time presidents of Harvard College rest here in 
crumbling tombs. One of Dr. Holmes's most beautiful poems 
describes this churchyard. 

"Go where the ancient pathway guides, 

See where our sires laid down 
Their smiling babes, their cherished brides, 

The patriarchs of the town. 
Hast thou a tear for buried love ? 

A sigh for transient power ? 
All that a century left above, 

Go, read it in an hour." 



20 



" High walls and huge the body may confine, 

And iron gates obstruct the prisoner's gaze, 
And massive bolts may baffle his design, 

And vigilant keepers watch his devious ways ; 
Yet scorns th' immortal mind this base control ! 

No chains can bind it, and no cell enclose : 
Swifter than light, it flies from pole to pole. 

And in a flash from earth to heaven it goes ! 
It leaps from mount to mount, from vale to vale 

It wanders, plucking honeyed fruits and flowers ; 
It visits home to hear the fireside tale, 

Or in sweet converse pass the joyous hours. 
'T is up before the sun, roaming afar, 
And in its watches wearies every star!" 

William Lloyd Garrison. 



CHAPTER XVII. 

THE ANTISLAVERY STRUGGLE. 

About half a century ago a young New England journalist 
accepted a position in Baltimore. 

The state of society which he beheld in that city surprised 
and shocked him. 

Baltimore then was one of the marts of the domestic slave 
trade. 

Slave-pens flaunted their signs upon the principal streets, 
and vessels loaded with slaves who had been bred and raised 
like cattle for the market, were constantly departing for Mo- 
bile, Savannah, and New Orleans. Comes of slaves, chained 
together, moved through the streets. The traffic in human 
flesh was one great business of the day. 

Yet the people engaged in raising slaves for the market 
moved in the best society, and were members of the leading 
Christian churches. 

The young man publicly protested against this great 
wrong. 

He was imprisoned for making this protest. 

On the walls of his cell he thus wrote with a pencil : — 

"A martyr's crown is richer than a king's. 
Think it an honor with thy Lord to bleed, 
And glory 'midst intensest sufferings; 
Though beat, imprisoned, put to open shame, 
Time shall embalm and magnify thy name." 



3 1 o Young" Folks History of Boston. 

That prophecy was to be fulfilled. 

But not until after many years. 

This young man returned to New England and was the 
leading mind of the first Antislavery Society in America, 
which was formed on " Nigger Hill," Boston, in a school-room 
under the African Baptist Church, Jan. 6, 1832. 

There seem to have been some men " of property and 
standing " in Boston at this time whom history will not love 
to remember by their names, but will be glad to mention 
them merely as people that have been. 

Some of these nameless people, in October, 1835, attacked 
a female antislavery meeting. While one of the ladies, Miss 
Mary S. Parker, was engaged in prayer, we are told that the 
company was assailed by " hisses, yells, and curses," sounds 
not often heard in Boston to-day on any occasion, and never 
from men " of property and position." What great men they 
must have been ! 

They next threw the Testaments and Prayer- Books out of 
the window. They then seized a young man who was edit- 
ing an antislavery paper in the city, and coiled a rope around 
his body, intending to drag him through the streets. 

A cry was raised, — 

" He sha'n't be hurt : he is an American ! " 

At this he was beset by the mob, and the clothes were torn 
from his body. 

He was at last taken in charge by the city officers, and 
was placed in jail for his personal safety. 

This young man was the same who was imprisoned in Bal- 
timore, — William Lloyd Garrison, — at the time of this last 
arrest, the editor of The Liberator. 

The antislavery society he had formed proved the begin- 
ning of many such societies, and the principles to which the 
young agitator devoted his life, and for which he lived many 
years in poverty, spread by persecution. This uncompromis- 
ing young man became a moral power in the land. 



1842. The Antislavery Struggle. 313 

In no single city did the principles for which he contended 
gain a firmer or wider influence than in Boston, where he had 
been mobbed. 

In the autumn of 1842 George Latimer, a native of Vir- 
ginia, was arrested in Boston without a warrant, on the claim 
that he was a fugitive slave. The case was brought before 
the courts. Chief Justice Shaw ruled that " the statute of the 
United States authorized the owner of the fugitive to arrest 
him in any State to which he might have fled." 

Latimer was held as a prisoner to await further action. 

The old spirit of the Revolution was revived again. The 
city was full of indignation at such an infringement on the 
rights of personal liberty. 

In October, on the last Sabbath evening in the month, a 
great audience met in Faneuil Hall. Speeches were made 
and the citizens recorded themselves as protesting : — 

" By all the glorious memories of the Revolutionary strug- 
gle, 

" In the names of justice, liberty, and right, 

" In the awful name of God, 

"Against the deliverance of George Latimer into the hands 
of his pursuers." 

Letters in sympathy with the spirit of the meeting were 
read from John Quincy Adams, George Bancroft, and 
others. 

Latimer was set free, a philanthropist paying to his owner 
the price of his freedom. 

The event caused the question of the moral right of slave- 
holding to be everywhere discussed, and the result was a 
growing sense of the wrong of the institution of slavery. 
Some cf the most brilliant men of Boston became eloquent 
advocates of the antislavery cause. Among these were 
Wendell Phillips, Theodore Parker, and Dr. Samuel G. 
Howe. John G. Whittier . became the poet of the cause, 



3H 



Young Folks' History of Boston. 



and young Charles Sumner began to bring to it the weight 
of his scholarship and convincing eloquence. 

The antislavery societies prepared the way for the Free 
Soil party, and this party was in turn the beginning of the 
great political movement against slavery. 

On the 3d of October, 1850, there was another exciting 
antislavery meeting in Faneuil Hall, at which words of elec- 
tric and impassioned eloquence were spoken. Millard Fill- 
more had signed the Fugitive Slave Law. The Free Soil 
party, hitherto small, under the influence of the popular in- 
dignation awakened by this law became strongly reinforced. 
It held its convention on the date and at the place we have 
named, and was addressed by Charles Sumner, who was just 
entering upon his public career. 

Mr. Sumner's condemnation of the Fugitive Slave Law 
was unsparing in the extreme. He said, — 

" Other presidents may be forgotten, but the name signed 
to the Fugitive Slave Bill can never be forgotten. There 
are depths of infamy as there are heights of fame. I regret 

to say what I must, 
but truth compels 
me : better for him 
had he never been 
born." 

A more exciting 
scene was witnessed 
in Faneuil Hall in 
1854. Anthony 

Burns had been ar- 
rested under the Fu- 
gitive Slave Act and 
lodged in jail. The 
antislavery men 

called a meeting. 




THEODORE PARKER. 



i86i. The Antislavery Struggle. 317 

Theodore Parker was present ; Phillips, Stowell, and Dr. 
Howe. Such an influence went from this meeting that the 
militia had to be called out to guard the Court House. 

Burns was surrendered to his master on the 2d of June. 
He was to be taken from his cell to the ship. The city be- 
came feverish with excitement. He was conducted from 
Court Street to the wharf in the centre of a hollow square of 
armed men, protected by the militia and by cannon. The 
streets were draped in black, the bells tolled, the expression 
of public disapproval was so emphatic as to be awe-inspiring 
and terrible. 

The contest between freedom and slavery ended in war. 
Fort Sumter fell in the spring of 
1 86 1. The whole North burned to 
retrieve the nation's honor. 

Washington was threatened. On 
the 15 th of April Governor Andrew 
received a telegram from Washing- 
ton, asking him to send fifteen hun- 
dred men for the protection of the 
city. The answer of the governor 

J ■ ° FORT SUMTER. 

to the president was immediate, and 

the response of the militia to the governor's call as prompt. 
On the morning of the 16th volunteers began to arrive. The 
State soon became a camp. The wealthy men of Boston 
pledged their money for the support of the soldiers' families. 
The Boston banks offered to loan the State $3,600,000 with- 
out security, to meet any emergency that might arise. On the 
19th of April — the Lexington and Concord Day — the 
6th Massachusetts regiment was attacked in Baltimore and 
four of the men were killed. 

Boston now gave her resources to the struggle. At the 
close of the year 1862 Massachusetts had in active service 
fifty-three regiments of infantry, twelve companies of light 




3i8 



Young Folks History of Boston. 



artillery, three of heavy artillery, and one regiment and sev- 
eral companies of cavalry. 

In 1864 Governor Andrew said to the Legislature, "Our 
volunteers have represented Massachusetts during the year 




MASSACHUSETTS SIXTH IN BALTIMORE. 

just ended on almost every field and in every department of 
the army where our flag has been unfurled, — at Chancellors- 
ville, Gettysburg, Vicksburg, Port Hudson, and Fort Wagner j 
at Chickamauga, Knoxville, and Chattanooga ; under Hooker, 
Meade, Banks, Gilmore, Rosecrans, Burnside, and Grant. In 
every scene of danger and duty, — along the Atlantic and the 



1864. The Antislavery Struggle. 319 

Gulf, on the Tennessee, the Cumberland, the Mississippi, 
and the Rio Grande ; under Dupont, Dahlgren, Foote, Far- 
ragut, and Porter, — the sons of Massachusetts have borne 
their part, and paid the debt of patriotism and valor." 

Massachusetts sent 159,165 of her sons to the war. 

On the high ground of the Common the tall shaft of the 
Soldiers' and Sailors' Monument shines through the trees; 
and in the public square from which Columbus Avenue 
stretches away amid streets and blocks of wealth and taste, 
stands the Emancipation Monument, and all good people 
look upon them both with patriotic pride as they recall the 
war record of Boston and Massachusetts. 

" Truth crushed to earth shall rise again, 
The eternal years of God are hers." 



" O, many a time it hath been told, 
The story of those men of old : 
For this fair Poetry hath wreathed 

Her sweetest, purest flower ; 
For this proud Eloquence hath breathed 

His strain of loftiest power ; 
Devotion, too, hath lingered round 
Each spot of consecrated ground, 

And hill and valley blessed ; 
There where our banished fathers strayed, 
There where they loved and wept and prayed, 

There where their ashes rest. 

" And never may they rest unsung, 
While Liberty can find a tongue. 
Twine, Gratitude, a wreath for them, 
More deathless than the diadem, 
Who to life's noblest end 

Gave up life's noblest powers, 
And bade the legacy descend 
Down, down to us and ours." 

Charles Sprague. 



CHAPTER XVIII. 

THE BOSTON OF TO-DAY. 

Such was Boston in the past ; such were its founders ; such 
were the foundations that these great and good men laid. 

How wonderful in contrast is the scene to-day ! 

In colonial times Boston embraced a peninsula of six hun- 
dred and ninety acres,, The peninsula has vanished ; 1 700 
acres were acquired by the city when South Boston and East 
Boston were added to its area; 10,100 when Roxbury and 
West Roxbury were annexed ; 4800 when the gardens of 
beautiful Dorchester were received. To-day the area of 
Boston is more than 20,000 acres. Bridges span its rivers 
on every hand. Its suburbs are among the most lovely in 
the world. 

In 1 790 Boston had a population of something more than 
18,000; in 1800, of 24,000 ; in 1820, of 43,000 ; in 1840, of 
93,000; in 1850, of 136,000; in i860, of 177,000; and in 
1870, after the annexation of Roxbury in 1867, and of Dor- 
chester in 1869, °f 250,000. The annexation of Charlestown, 
West Roxbury, and Brighton added greatly to the population, 
and to-day (1881) Boston contains about 370,000 souls. 

We said the peninsula had vanished. The neck of it has 
been broadened into a wide and populous area, and where the 
high tides once washed the sands the finest private residences 
now stand. Over the old flats or Charles River marshes 



324 Young Folks' History of Boston. 

Commonwealth Avenue now stretches more than a mile in 
length and two hundred and forty feet wide. The old salt 
meadows are grand squares ; the very hills have been lowered 
to push away the embouchures of the Charles. 

The city has nearly thirty thousand buildings. Over it 
shines the gilded dome of the State House on Beacon Hill. 
This building was commenced in " Governor Hancock's pas- 
ture " in 1789. From the dome, which is open to the pub- 
lic, the harbor with its fifty islands, the Blue Hills of Milton, 
and an immense extent of country full of elegant houses, with 
clustering spires and towers, may be seen. In the Doric Hall, 
or rotunda, are many historic relics and beautiful busts and 
statues. 

The valuation of Boston in 1800 was a little more than 
$15,000,000; in 1870 it was nearly $600,000,000. In 1840 
the average amount of property to each inhabitant was less 
than $900 ; to-day it is nearly $2,500. Boston is one of the 
richest cities in the world. 

It was a town of churches at the beginning. It has now 
one hundred and fifty regular churches and some two hun- 
dred religious societies. 

The Puritans esteemed education next to religion, and 
provided the best schools for their children. The schools in 
Boston number nearly four hundred ; they are the best 
in the country, and the free public school buildings are 
the finest ever erected. Harvard University is the leading 
college of America. The music schools of Boston are the 
best in the country, and one of them is the largest in the 
world. 

In 1852 Joshua Bates, whose bust may be seen in Bates 
Hall, offered the city $50,000 for the purchase of books, if 
a suitable library were provided. The offer was accepted, 
and thus began the Boston Public Library on Boylston Street. 
The library now contains nearly four hundred thousand vol- 



1869. Boston of To-day. 327 

limes, and is, next to the library of Congress, the largest in 
the country, and in point of value one of the best in America. 

When the Puritans came to Boston it was because of the 
healthful springs of water on the peninsula. The fountains 
that welled up from the earth where is now Louisburg Square, 
with its odd figures of Columbus and Aristides, have dis- 
appeared, long ago drawn away by the over-demand on their 
hidden sources. The spring near Governor Winthrop's old 
residence, where now is dark Spring Lane (beyond the Old 
South Church), around whose pump the women used to 
gossip in Anne Hutchinson's time, is also gone. But Bos- 
ton is a place of pure water, now as of old. In 1848, while 
Josiah Quincy, Jr., was mayor, water was successfully intro- 
duced into the city from Lake Cochituate, twenty miles dis- 
tant. The lake covers six hundred and fifty acres. It was 
arranged that this water should be brought in a brick conduit 
eleven miles long to a grand reservoir in Brookline, and 
thence to distributing reservoirs in Boston, East Boston, South 
Boston, and the Highlands. The principal reservoir in Brook- 
line covers twenty- three acres. In 1869 a stand-pipe was 
erected in Roxbury by means of which pure water is supplied 
to the highest levels of the city houses. 

In 1869, after the settlement of the issues of the war, a 
great musical festival, called the " Peace Jubilee," was held 
in Boston in a coliseum, built to accommodate fifty thousand 
people. One hundred and eight musical societies united in 
forming a chorus of some ten thousand voices, and these, to 
the accompaniment of nearly one thousand instruments, a 
battery of artillery, and anvils and bells, sang the favorite 
hymns and songs of America and the great patriotic chorals 
of the world. It was June ; the city was filled with beautiful 
flowers ; the singers of all the towns of New England gathered 
here, and the Common wore the appearance of a great fair. 
No one who attended can ever forget Boston in those serene, 



328 



Yo7ing Folks History of Boston. 



fragrant, and bright June days. Another jubilee, at which 
the singers numbered nearly twenty thousand and the instru- 
ments nearly two thousand, was held in 1872. 

On the evening of the 9th of November, 1872,. a fire was 
discovered in a dry-goods building on the corner of Kings- 




CORNER OF WASHINGTON AND MILK STREETS, BEFORE THE GREAT FIRE. 

ton and Summer Streets. A cold wind was rising, and about 
nine o'clock the people were greatly excited to behold Sum- 
mer Street a wall of flame. In the night the wind blew 
heavily, the flames spread in all directions, and the great 
granite warehouses seemed to melt before them like lead. It 



1872. " The Old South stands" 331 

was Saturday night. The fire raged until Sunday noon. 
Sixty-five acres, the centre of the wholesale trade of the city, 
were covered with blackened heaps of ruin. Eight hundred 
buildings were destroyed. The loss was estimated at $80,- 
000,000. 

The fire was arrested at a point near the Old South Church. 
This historic building was saved by the heroic efforts of the 
firemen. 

"THE OLD SOUTH STANDS." 

Loud, through the still November air, 

The clang and clash of fire-bells broke ; 
From street to street, from square to square, 

Rolled sheets of flame and clouds of smoke. 
The marble structures reeled and fell, 

The iron pillars bowed like lead ; 
But one lone spire rang on its bell 

Above the flames. Men passed, and said, 
"The Old South stands!" 

The gold moon, 'gainst a copper sky, 

Hung like a portent in the air ; 
The midnight came, the wind rose high, 

And men stood speechless in despair. 
But, as the marble columns broke, 

And wider grew the chasm red, — 
A seething gulf of flame and smoke, — 

The firemen marked the spire and said, 
" The Old South stands ! " 

Beyond the harbor, calm and fair, 

The sun came up through bars of gold, 
Then faded in a wannish glare, 

As flame and smoke still upward rolled. 
The princely structures, crowned with art, 

Where Commerce laid her treasures bare ; 
The haunts of trade, the common mart, 

All vanished in the withering air, — 
"The Old South stands ! " 



332 Young Folks' History of Boston. 

" The Old South must be levelled soon 

To check the flames and save the street ; 
Bring fuse and powder." But at noon 

The ancient fane still stood complete. 
The mitred flame had lipped the spire, 

The smoke its blackness o'er it cast j 
Then, hero-like, men fought the fire, 

And from each lip the watchword passed, — 
" The Old South stands ! " 

All night the red sea round it rolled, 

And o'er it fell the fiery rain ; 
And, as each hour the old clock told, 

Men said, " 'T will never strike again ! " 
But still the dial-plate at morn 

Was crimsoned in the rising light. 
Long may it redden with the dawn, 

And mark the shading hours of night ! 
Long may it stand ! 

Long may it stand ! where God was sought 

In weak and dark and doubtful days ; v 

Where freedom's lessons first were taught, 

And prayers of faith were turned to praise; 
Where burned the first Shekinah's flame 

In God's new temples of the free ; 
Long may it stand, in God's great name, 

Like Israel's pillar by the sea ! 
Long may it stand ! 

On the 17th of June, 1875, occurred the Centennial Cele- 
bration of the Battle of Bunker Hill. It was one of the most 
imposing peace pageants ever seen in America. It also 
happily proved the occasion of a formal exchange of expres- 
sions of good-will and renewed friendship between the repre- 
sentatives of the North and South. 

Boston is a lovely city in mid-June, with its old historic 
streets, fine avenues, and grand trees; but the day of the 
celebration was one of the most delightful of the season. 
An immense concourse of people, estimated at a quarter 




"the old south stands. 



iS75- 



TJie Boston of To-day. 



335 



of a million, witnessed the march of the Centennial pro- 
cession through streets roofed with banners that gayly toyed 
and played with the mellow sunlight. The procession itself 
was nearly ten miles long. 

In the procession were a Baltimore regiment and parts of 
a Virginia and South Carolina regiment. The splendid New 
York Seventh Regiment, with its glittering uniforms ; the Penn- 
sylvania regiments, with Governor Hartranft ; the Providence 
Light Infantry, with General Burnside ; General Sherman, 
Vice-President Wilson, and a large number of men associated 
with recent history, — all received a hearty recognition. 




HENRY WILSON. 

The march of the Southern regiments was a complete o\ a- 
tion through all the route. 

The celebration was full of incidents calculated to inspire 
harmony of feeling between the late hostile States. A pal- 
metto-tree was planted at the foot of Bunker Hill Monument, 



336 



Young Folks History of Boston. 



and so Massachusetts and South Carolina were made by their 
traditional emblems to stand side by side. The great organ 
was surrounded by palmettos and palms, and it pealed forth 



a fortissimo welcome when the 
came filing into the Music Hall, 
heard stronger or more stirring 
words, presenting Northern views 
of the late war, than on that same 
platform of Boston Music Hall. 

On the Soldiers' Monument in 
Charlestown — an imposing gran- 
ite structure which especially 
honors Massachusetts soldiers 
who fell in the streets of Balti- 
more — the Maryland regiment 
placed an immense shield of 
flowers, bordered with trailing 
smilax, which was itself inwoven 
with flowers. 

General Fitz Hugh Lee spoke 
in Music Hall on the occasion of 
the Governor's re- 
ception to invited 
guests. When he 
closed his ad- 
dress the orches- 
tra burst forth 
with "Auld Lang 
Syne." The flag 
of Eutaw, which 
had just been un- 
furled in honor of 
the South Caro- 
lina soldiers, was 



troops from Charleston 
Yet nowhere have been 




soldiers' and sailors' monument. 



i877- Soldiers and Sailors' Monument. 337 

waving before the great organ, among the palmettos, and the 
audience was deeply stirred by old memories and new hopes. 
On Sept. 17, 1877, there was another great military and 
civic procession on the occasion of the dedication of the 
Soldiers' and Sailors' Monument. The entire military force 
of the State paraded, and was reviewed by President Hayes. 
From the top of this lofty monument the statue of America 
overlooks the city. 

Our young readers have nearly all seen this beautiful work 
of art, but not all who have seen it may know the meaning 
of the four large bronze reliefs. 

The one in front represents the departure for the war. A 
regiment is seen marching by the State House steps. The 
figures are — 

Colonel Lowell, ^) 
Colonel Shaw, 

Colonel Cass, \ Mounted officers from left to right. 
General Butler, 
General Reed, J 
On the steps of the State House are — 

Rev. Turner Sargent, Governor Andrew, 

Rev. A. H. Vinton, Wendell Phillips, 

Rev. Phillips Brooks, H. W. Longfellow, 

Archbishop Williams, and others. 

The second relief represents the work of the Sanitary Com- 
mission. The principal figures are — 
Rev. E. E. Hale, 
E. R. Mudge, 
A. H. Rice, 

Tames Russell Lowell, ! _ .. _ . . 
t» ^ ^, r From left to right. 

Rev. Dr. Gannett, 

George Ticknor, 

W. W. Clapp, 

Marshall P. Wilder, , 

22 



338 Young Folks* History of Boston. 

The third relief gives a view of the return from the war. 
It contains forty figures. Among them are — 

General Bartlett, Governor Claflin, 

General Underwood, Charles Sumner, 

General Banks, C. W. Slack, 

General Devens, James Redpath, 

Senator Wilson, J. B. Smith. 

The fourth relief is a naval scene. 

The most interesting locality in Boston, after the Common, 
is, perhaps, Art Square. Fronting it, or very near it, are the 
Art Museum, Trinity Church, the new Old South Church, 
Second Church, the Institute of Technology, and the Mu- 
seum of Natural History. The boulevard of Commonwealth 
Avenue is near, and the boulevard of Huntington Avenue 
stretches away from the square for more than a mile. 

Trinity Church, a French Romanesque structure, such as 
might have been seen in Aquitaine in the Middle Ages, is one 
of the most beautiful buildings in America. It was conse- 
crated in 1877, when a procession of more than one hundred 
clergymen entered the main portal. Its famous frescos are 
by John La Farge. In the great tower these frescos repre- 
sent Moses and David, Peter and Paul, Isaiah and Jeremiah. 

The Museum of Fine Arts is both a school and an exhi- 
bition. In the entrance hall are works by great sculptors, 
pottery by the mound-builders, Gobelin tapestry, and an- 
tiques from the Alhambra. The Greek rooms are rich in casts 
and statues, including the Sumner Collection. The Egyptian 
room contains the Way Collection of Egyptian antiquities. 
The picture galleries have works by nearly all the great 
masters of art of recent times, and many specimens of the old 
masters. 

In the hall, just over the staircase, are two remarkable pic- 
tures. One of these is the Madness of King Lear, by Ben- 



iS43- A Story of Washington Alls ton. 339 

jamin West ; the other is Belshazzar's Feast, by Washington 
Allston, — a work that occupied the painter's attention for 
forty years, and on which he spent the last days of his life. 



A STORY OF WASHINGTON ALLSTON. 

Allston was one of the purest of men from youth to age. 

He taught his pupils that character was the first essential 
to success in any art. 

We once met a pupil of Allston, now one of the most fa- 
mous landscape painters in the country. He related many 
beautiful anecdotes of the great painter, and described his 
sudden death, and the scene in Cambridge churchyard when 
the moon broke through the summer clouds as the coffin was 
opened for the last time. 

• " There is one thing that Allston used to say to me that I 
shall never forget," he said with feeling : " it was a lesson 
that every young man should learn. 

" ' Young man,' he would say, ' be pure. No one ever can 
become a truly great artist without purity of character. Na- 
ture never reveals her beauties to a mind clouded with any 
grossness of character.' 

" He seemed to try to impress upon me the fact that he 
who deviated in the least from strict morality became some- 
thing less of a man than he might have been." 

The lesson which Allston taught his pupils, and sublimely 
illustrated in his own life, is one that every young man who 
has an aspiration for success in any aesthetic calling should 
learn. " Nature never reveals her beauties to a mind clouded 
with any grossness of character." Men of weak moral char- 
acter do often make a reputation in literature and art, but 
they are always "something less than they might have 
been." 



340 Young Folks History of Boston. 

Near West's picture is SchefTer's Eberhard Mourning over 
the Body of his Son. 



EBERHARD. 

The clarions rung, the bugles played, 

The fight was hot and hard ; 
Before the town of Gottingen 
Fast fell the ranks of Swabian men, 
Led on by Eberhard. 

Count Ulric was a valiant youth, 

The son of Eberhard ; 
The bugles played, the clarions rung, 
His spearmen on the foe he flung, 

And pressed the foemen hard. 

" Ulric is slain ! " the nobles cried. 

The bugles ceased to blow. 
But soon the monarch's order ran, 
" My son is as another man, 

Press boldly on the foe." 

And fiercer now the fight began, 
And harder fell each blow ; 

But still the monarch's order ran, 

" My son is as another man, 
Press boldly on the foe." 

O, many fell at Gottingen, 

Before the day was done ; 
But victory blessed the Swabian men, 
And the happy bugles played again 

At the setting of the sun. 



We have ended many of these chapters with a story. We 
will here close with some account of 



i845- A Gigantic Relic. 341 

A GIGANTIC RELIC. 

The rarest collections of scientific relics are often the most 
unvisited, and it is a somewhat singular fact that the choicest 
and most instructive curiosities in many of our larger cities are 
not to be found in the popular museums. Thousands of people 
living in the city of Boston, who are familiar with the stuffed 
animals and astonishing wax figures in the old Boston Mu- 
seum, and are accustomed to air their fancy among the re- 
spectable fossils and gorgeous tropical birds in the Museum of 
Natural History, have perhaps never so much as heard of the 
wonder-exciting collection of anatomical curiosities known as 
the Warren Museum. 

The building stands in a quiet, tenantless part of Chestnut 
Street, between Charles Street and the Charles River, but a 
few steps from Beacon Street and the Public Garden. It is 
made of brick, with heavy iron doors and shutters, and of all 
places would be the least likely to attract the eye of the 
stranger, but for the inscription over the door, — 

" ERECTED BY 

DR. JOHN COLLINS WARREN." 

Dr. John Collins Warren was the son of Dr. John Warren, 
a most skilful surgeon in the American army during the 
Revolutionary War, and the founder of the Medical School 
in Harvard College. He was educated in the best medical 
schools of London and Paris, and on the death of his father, 
in 181 5, was elected Professor of Anatomy and Surgery at 
Harvard College, and in 1820 was placed at the head of the 
surgical department of the Massachusetts General Hospital, 
a position that he held for thirty-three years. During the 
latter period he made the most extensive collection of ana- 
tomical specimens to be found in the country. A part of 



34 2 Young Folks' History of Boston. 

these are still at the Massachusetts General Hospital, a part 
at the Boston Museum of Natural History, and a part, com- 
prising the rarest and most valuable, constitute the Warren 
Museum. 

The museum belongs to Dr. Warren's heirs. For a con- 
siderable period after his decease they used to open it on 
certain days to the public, but it ceased to excite curiosity, 
and it is now only opened by special permission on applica- 
tion to members of the family. Every courtesy is extended 
to those who wish to visit the place for scientific purposes, 
although no provision was made in Dr. Warren's will for the 
preservation of the relics or care of the building. 

The Warren Museum consists of two fire-proof rooms, one 
of which contains gigantic fossils, and the other, relics which 
the great anatomist wished to preserve with more than ordi- 
nary care. Among these are the skull, brain, and heart of 
Spurzheim, the phrenologist and anatomist, who died in Bos- 
ton in 1832, and whose monument graces one of the princi- 
pal avenues of Mount Auburn. 

Spurzheim was a martyr to science, and those who were 
familiar with his self-forgetful life and the vicissitudes of his 
career could hardly view these relics with unmoistened eyes. 
The heart is preserved in a glass jar of alcohol, and the brain 
in a glass box filled with liquid. The Prussian philosopher 
died only two months after his arrival in Boston, during the 
delivery of his first course of lectures. He gave his body to 
science, to which from boyhood he had devoted all the en- 
ergies of his soul. 

The most remarkable object in the Warren Museum is the 
largest skeleton of the Mastodon giganteus ever discovered 
on the continent. By its side, in way of contrast, is the frame 
of the elephant Pizarro, the largest ever brought to this coun- 
try. The skeleton of the Mastodon giganteus will not fail to 
cause the visitor to start back in awe, and he will be hardly 



1845. A Gigantic Relic. 343 

able to suppress that adjective of fools, " Impossible ! " It is 
twelve feet high, and thirty-four feet in length, from the tips 
of the tusks to the extremity of its tail. Its trunk is seventeen 



SKELETON OF MAMMOTH. 



feet in length. The animal must have weighed more than 
20,000 pounds ! 

Dr. Warren, in his magnificent and very costly work on the 
Mastodon giganteus, copies of which are only to be found in 
the rarest libraries, has given us an account of all that is 
known of this animal, and a very interesting description of 
the finding of this particular specimen, of which we make an 
abridgment : — 

At a very early period after the settlement of this country, 
relics of the mastodon were found in the vicinity of the Hud- 
son River. Among these were a tooth, which is described 
by Dr. Cotton Mather of Boston as weighing more than four 
pounds, and a thigh-bone, said to have been more than sev- 
enteen feet long. 

As the country became settled, mastodon bones, in greater 
or less numbers, were found scattered over a large part of the 
territory of the United States, but chiefly near the Hudson, 



344 Young Folks History of Boston. 

in the salt-licks of Kentucky, in the Carolinas, in Mississippi, 
and Arkansas. They have recently been found in California 
and Oregon. 

The Hudson River country, between New York and Al- 
bany, seems to have been a favorite resort of the mastodon 
race. The lands here were fertile, undulating, and well 
wooded, and the valleys contained lacustrine deposits favora- 
ble to the growth of such trees and shrubs as would be likely 
to afford this animal subsistence. 

In the year 1845 there was found, at Newburgh, on the 
Hudson, the largest perfect skeleton of a mastodon which 
has yet been exhumed on this continent. The summer had 
been exceedingly hot and dry. Many small lacustrine de- 
posits had been exposed by the drought, and the farmers had 
industriously seized upon the opportunity to remove these 
rich beds of fertility to their tillage-lands and fields. 

The drought at last laid bare one of these deposits in a 
bog on the farm of Mr. N. Brewster, a spot that had never 
been known to become dry before. Mr. Brewster at once 
summoned his men to remove the deposit, as rapidly as pos- 
sible, to his fields and farm-yards. One day, toward evening, 
in the latter part of summer, these laborers struck a hard 
substance. Some said it was a "rock;" others, a "log;" 
others, jestingly, a " mammoth." 

Early the next morning Mr. Brewster went with his labor- 
ers to the field, and found the supposed rock or log to be an 
immense bone. The men began digging, full of eager curi- 
osity, and exposed to view the massive skull and long white 
tusks of a mastodon. These tusks were of such immense 
size and length as to cause the most wonderful reports to go 
flying about the neighborhood, and to draw the good people 
of Newburgh in crowds to the place. It was soon discovered 
that the perfect skeleton of a mastodon was imbedded in 
the peat. Sheer-poles and tackles were obtained, and, amid 



1845- A Gigantic Relic. 345 

excitement, cheering, and many cautions, the bones of the 
monster were raised from the bed where they had lain no 
one can tell how many thousand years. 

Two days were occupied in these interesting labors. The 
relics drew to them an immense number of people from the 
surrounding country. Beneath the pelvic bones of this mas- 
todon were found five or six bushels of broken twigs, which 
evidently had constituted the animal's last meal. He had 
undoubtedly been mired while attempting to cross this bog, 
and in this manner perished. These twigs were from one- 
quarter to three-eighths of an inch in diameter, and a little 
more than an inch in length. They were supposed to belong 
to willow, linden, and maple trees. 

It is vain to conjecture how many years ago this crea- 
ture may have lived. What marvellous scenes must have 
passed before its eyes in its wanderings, what gigantic 
forests, what noble watercourses, what luxuriant vegetation ! 
What strange animals may have been its companions, — 
species that passed away long before civilization brought its 
destructive weapons to the Western shores ! 



" O country fair ! how have thy green hills altered 
Since those dim, distant days 
When, lost in beauty, olden voyagers faltered 
On bright New England bays ; 

" Since on thy tides the weary Northmen drifted, 
Safe havened from the seas, 
And knighted sea-kings in thy calm capes lifted 
Their banners to the breeze; 

" Since knelt the Pilgrim, by dark foes surrounded, 
In forests newly trod, 
And in each place a templed city founded, 
Where he bent down to God. 



" 'T is ours to tell no mythic hero's glory, 
Nor twine the victor's bays ; 
'Tis ours to tell of praying men the story, 
And follow prayer with praise. 

"'T is ours to mark upon a lengthened dial 
The finger of our God, 
As we recount the paths of self-denial 
Through which our fathers trod. 

" The rural homes among the oaks' broad shadows 
Upon the river's arms ; 
The fragrant orchards and the waving meadows, 
Of harvest-happy farms ; 

" The clustering steeples by the busy river, 
The towns on harbors fair, 
Are but God's answers to their brave endeavor 
And self-forgetful prayer. 



" They prayed alone to know the path of duty, 
And duty's hardships bear ; 
And God for them has diademed with beauty 
Thy hills, O country fair ! " 



CHAPTER XIX. 

THE PLEASURE RESORTS AND THE BEAUTIFUL 
SUBURBS OF BOSTON. 

People who have travelled extensively pronounce the 
suburbs of Boston among the most lovely of the cities of the 
world. It is a quiet loveliness of hill, glen, and river ; fine 
public buildings and homes of taste. From all the hills, 
ocean views with white sails and green islands appear. The 
roads are wide and shaded. Broad lawns, flower-gardens, 
arbors, and decorations in marble and bronze are to be seen 
continuously for miles. The neighboring towns are as de- 
lightful. Few English landscapes are more beautiful than 
those at the Newtons, at Arlington, and Brookline. An 
excursion on the Charles River from Waltham in the little 
summer steamer takes one through a region of rural beauty 
that seems formed for a fairy land. Few schools in the 
world have a more pleasing situation than Wellesley College, 
with its extensive grounds, dotted with noble trees, its lake, 
its groves, its views of the winding Charles. The estates in 
Wellesley known as Hunnewell's Gardens and Ridge Hill 
Farms are among the most beautiful specimens of floral deco- 
ration and landscape gardening in the country. 

The Blue Hills at Milton, Corey Hill in Brookline, Arling- 
ton Heights, Winter Hill, Somerville, and the hills of Maiden, 
all present charming landscapes to the eye of the excursion- 
ist. He has not seen the beauties of Boston who has not 



350 Young Folks History of Boston. 

visited the suburbs and the neighboring towns, in which a 
large proportion of those who do business in the city live and 
spend their wealth on homes of comfort and taste. 

Many of the lovely places near Boston can be reached by 
the horse-cars. A ten-cent ride in the open cars will afford 
almost as much pleasure as a ride in one's own carriage. 
Among the many places that may thus be visited are 

Dorchester, affording a view of the harbor and of Milton 
Hills. 

Grove Hall, passing the residence of General Warren, and 
stopping near Dr. Cullis's well-known charitable institution, 
the Consumptives' Home. 

Milton Lower Mills, a distance of six miles, with views of 
South Boston, the Harbor, the villas of Savin Hill, and Ne- 
ponset River. A short walk from the Mills will take one to 
the highlands of Milton, whence very picturesque and ex- 
tended scenes appear ; another walk over a road lined with 
villas will bring one to Webster Garden, near which the 
Dorchester horse-cars may be taken for a return trip to Bos- 
ton. This excursion, with its walks, would take some three or 
four hours. This is a very charming afternoon trip in June 
or September. 

Forest Hills is a beautiful part of the suburbs. The dis- 
tance by horse-cars is about five miles, into an open country 
full of rich landscapes, airy villas, and broad, beautiful lawns. 

Jamaica Plain opens another horse-car ride through ave- 
nues of great beauty. The car track is about five miles in 
length. At the end of it, near the Soldiers' Monument, a 
carriage in summer will be found waiting to take excursion- 
ists to Allandale Mineral Spring, over a road of continu- 
ous villas, and in view of noble country-seats and quaint 
Queen Anne houses. The woods around Allandale Spring 
are full of walks, and a summer afternoon may be spent there 
as quietly as in a forest. 




STATUE OF EDWARD EVERETT. 



1 88 1. The Pleasure Resorts of Boston. 353 

A visit to Mount Auburn, passing the colleges at Cam- 
bridge, and the residences of Longfellow and James Russell 
Lowell, may be made by the horse-cars. In this one gets 
fine views of the Charles. It is well to take a whole day for 
this excursion, and to stop in Cambridge and visit the Agassiz 
Museum and Harvard Memorial Hall. The excursion may 
be made, however, on a summer or early autumn afternoon. 
Arlington is reached by horse-cars which pass through Cam- 
bridge, and the horse-car route is one of the longest out of 
Boston. Before making excursions in this direction it would 
be well for the tourist to read Drake's " Historic Fields and 
Mansions of Middlesex." 

A horse-car excursion to Lynn through Charlestown affords 
a view of Bunker Hill Monument, and of the Chelsea and 
Revere Beaches. A pleasant short excursion may be made 
by crossing to Chelsea on the ferry-boat and returning by the 
horse- cars to the city. 

Among the places of especial interest only a few miles 
from Boston, but a little beyond the horse-car tracks, we may 
mention : — 

Middlesex Fells Medford. 

Old Powder House Somerville. 

" Merry Mount " Wollaston. 

Cradock House Medford. 

Waverly Oaks Belmont. 

Royall House Medford. 

Ten Hills Somerville. 

Adams Homestead Quincy. 

These and many other places are interesting alike to the 
Bostonian and the traveller spending a few weeks in Boston. 
Many Boston people who have visited Europe are not well 
acquainted with the historic places of their own State. 
Others, as was the case with Charles Sumner, have taken new 

23 



354 Young Folks History of Boston. 

views of the beauties of Boston, after a residence abroad. 
" In all England," said Sir Charles Dilke, " there is no city 
which has suburbs so gray and venerable as the elm-shaded 
towns around Boston, — Dorchester, Chelsea, Nahant, and 
Salem." " It is a good thing for a Bostonian to go abroad," 
said a traveller, " it gives him such a satisfaction with his 
own city on his return." 

As beautiful as are the suburbs and the inland towns near 
Boston, are the shores and green islands of the harbor and 
bay. Boston Bay has been compared to the Bay of Dublin 
and even to the Bay of Naples. The latter comparison is of 
course overdrawn ; the bay has no Vesuvius, is canopied by 
no entrancing colors of sky, and terminated by no city of a 
history of thousands of years. But it is full of beauty, and 
the summer sunsets viewed from it are often magnificent, — 
crimson, violet, and pearl, with darkening clouds near the 
horizon that resemble mountain peaks, and complete an en- 
chanting scene. 

A fleet of steamers and excursion boats in summer gives 
the sheltered waters an animated appearance. Some of these 
go as far as Cape Ann, the Isle of Shoals, and the coast of 
Maine, but most of them to the Nantasket or Lynn Beaches. 
They all pass in sight of the terraced heights of Governor's 
Island and Fort Independence. Governor's Island was once 
known as Governor's Garden, it having been granted to 
Governor Winthrop for a garden, on the condition of his 
paying two bushels of apples a year to the colonial treasury. 

Fort Independence is built upon Castle Island, so called be- 
cause here was Castle William in colonial times. This island 
was fortified in 1633-34, and is the oldest military post in the 
eastern part of the country. It took the name of Castle William 
on the accession of William III., at which time it was repaired 
by Colonel Romer, and mounted with 100 guns. The castle 
was demolished by the British on the evacuation of Boston. 



i88i. The Pleasure Resorts of Boston. 355 

A new fortress was built and named Fort Independence by 
President John Adams. 

Among the beautiful and interesting places on the bay 
and Atlantic coast to which excursions may be made by 
steamers or railroads, or both, we may name — 

Point Shirley Narrow Gauge R. R. 

Deer Island . . . Government Boat, by permission. 

Revere Beach Boat, steam or horse cars. 

Nahant . Boat, or by rail to Lynn and barge to Nahant. 

Nahant is famous for its " spouting rock " and fine villas. It 
has been the summer resort of many eminent people, among 
them Longfellow, Motley, Agassiz, and Prescott. 

Swampscott, "} 
Marblehead, \ Railroad. 
Newburyport, 

Marblehead is one of the most quaint of American towns. 
It is full of old houses. It was the birthplace of Elbridge Gerry, 
Joseph Story, and Commodore Tucker. General Glover, 
whose statue may be seen in Commonwealth Avenue, lived 
here. Marblehead Neck is famous for its sea views, and its 
coolness in summer. The tomb of Whitefield is shown at 
Newburyport, in the Whitefield Church. 

Salem Railroad. 

The Marine Museum, the House of Seven Gables, Gallows 
Hill, and the court-house relics, such as the " witch pins," 
are here usually sought for by the historic tourist, and the 
associations of Hawthorne's books by the friends of the 
novelist. 

Beverly, 



„( 



Railroad. 
Manchester, 



356 Young Folks' History of Boston. 

Beverly Farms are famous in history. Beverly is the home 
of Lucy Larcom, and Manchester was the summer residence 
of the late James T. Fields. 

Gloucester, ^ 
Magnolia, j, Boat. 

Pigeon Cove, J 

Scituate, ) _ .. , 
. , ',. \ Railroad. 
Marshneld, j 

_ . >■ Excursion Boat. 

Provincetown, ) 

Chelsea Beach and Nantasket Beach are the principal 
resorts of those who have but a few hours at a time to devote 
to excursions. Downer Landing is also a favorite place. 

Nantasket Beach is connected with Cohasset by the famous 
Jerusalem road. Nantasket is supposed to have been the 
first land on the bay ever visited by white men. If the 
antiquaries are right, this event took place hundreds of years 
before Columbus was born. 

We had planned to end most of the chapters of this vol- 
ume with a story. Let us here tell you the story of 

Leif. 

Not long since, we heard a fairly well educated gentleman 
ask, " Who was Leif, of whom a statue is to be erected in 
Boston?" 1 

If most of my readers are similarly ignorant, it is not sur- 
prising, neither is it to their discredit. For those works 
especially treating of the race to which Leif belonged are 
inaccessible to the masses. The best cyclopaedias consider the 

1 We are largely indebted to F. F. Foster, Weare, New Hampshire, for 

most of this narrative. 




THE FRENCH KING TROUBLED AT THE APPROACH OF THE NORTHMEN. 



8 4 4- Leif. 359 

subject — as they must, perforce, all subjects — very briefly; 
and of many histories by us carefully examined, no one 
devotes more than two pages thereto, which is insufficient 
to convey any adequate information concerning that with 
which, in our opinion, every American scholar should be 
somewhat familiar. 

Before reading further in this chapter, find the map of 
North America, and keep it before the eye. You will thus 
be able to follow the course of the ships of Leif and Thorvald 
of which we are about to speak, and your eye will travel over 
all the wild coast from Greenland to Boston Harbor. 

The Northmen — by this term are to be understood the 
inhabitants of ancient Norway and Sweden — were at one 
time navigators of wide reputation throughout the world, 
though their expeditions were, for the greater part, of a 
piratical nature. Scarcely was there a known coast which 
their squadrons did not touch ; and, by their bravery and 
activity, these bold seamen gained and maintained the mas- 
tery over other nations. 

They established one of their princes, Canute, on the 
British throne, despite the mighty resistance of their adver- 
saries. About the same time they subjected to their power 
one of the fairest sections of France, to which they gave the 
name Normandy. Moreover, for a season, they ruled the 
Mediterranean regions, and held the supremacy in Constanti- 
nople and Jerusalem ; everywhere exhibiting an unsurpassed 
energy and courage. 

To both victors and vanquished these conquests were 
beneficial. The Southrons became more hardy, seeking to 
secure to themselves the physical vigor of their conquerors, 
which they could not but admire, so great was the contrast 
between it and their own weakness ; the roughness of the 
northern invaders was toned down by association with the 
refinement of southern civilization. 



360 Young Folks History of Boston. 

Inth? year 875 Ingolfand Leif established in Iceland a 
colony of Northmen who were unwilling longer to submit to 
the tyranny of their king, Harold ; and in 986, under the 
leadership of Eric, surnamed the Red, a colony of the same 
people settled in Greenland. Eric fixed his residence at a 
place to which he gave the name Brattalid ; the inlet, at the 
head of which he settled, he called Eric's fjord or ford. He 
named the country Green-land. 

Bjarne, son of Heriulf, — one of those who accompanied 
Eric to Greenland, and who gave his name to its southern- 
most cape, known to us as " Farewell," — was interested in 
maritime commerce, which he carried on with success. 

One summer, on returning from a foreign voyage to his 
Norwegian home, he learned that his father had gone to 
Greenland, and immediately resolved to follow him to the 
new country, though entirely ignorant as to the necessary 
course, nautically speaking. 

Finding his crew favorable to the project, he set sail for 
the land to which Heriulf had emigrated. For nearly two 
weeks, owing to a dense fog, he drifted at random ; but when 
the fog lifted he discovered land. As it was low, sandy, and 
covered with wood, — quite unlike what they supposed 
Greenland was, — they passed it and continued towards the 
north. 

The next day he again " made land." The physical char- 
acteristics of the coast were the same as those of the land 
previously seen ; so they left it and put out to sea. 

A few days later he for the third time discovered land, 
which, on exploration, proved to be an island. Leaving it, 
and sailing in a northerly direction, within three days they 
reached Heriulf's residence, Cape Farewell. 

In the year 1000 Leif, his curiosity aroused by what he 
had heard of Bjarne's discoveries, determined to visit the 
unexplored regions ; and, having purchased and equipped 



1000. 



Leif. 3^1 



Bjarne's ship, he set sail towards the south. The first land 
he reached was that last left by Bjarne, which Leif found a 
barren coast, gradually rising into mountains. On account 
of its extreme rockiness, he called the country Hella-land ; 
hella, in the Icelandic vernacular, signifying " a broad rock." 

This land Danish antiquaries regard as identical with 
Labrador. Owing to the fact that it was insular, we incline 
to believe Hella-land the modern Newfoundland. 

Resuming his voyage, Leif a second time made land, 
like in appearance to that first land that greeted Bjarne's eyes ; 
according to the aforementioned antiquaries, Nova Scotia. 

Putting to sea, in two days he for the third time saw land. 
Near the coast and to the south of it was an island which he 
visited. Sailing westward from the island, through a strait 
separating it from the mainland, he ere long reached a local- 
ity where a river flowed into the sea. 

This Leif deemed a suitable place for the establishment of 
a colony, and hither he brought the ship's stores. At first 
only rude huts were built ; but when it had been decided to 
make the place a permanent residence, houses of a respect- 
able size were erected, and the settlement was called Leifs 
Booths. 

Among Leifs followers was a German who for many years 
had been a member of Eric's household. Possessing an 
investigating disposition, he was almost always sent with those 
detailed to explore the interior of the country. On one 
occasion he did not return with the rest of his party, and 
Leif, anxious in regard to his safety, took a squad of men and 
set out in quest of him. He was soon found. 

Leif said to him, — 

" Why art thou so late, my foster father ? Why didst thou 
leave thy comrades? " 

" I did not go much further than they, but I found some- 
thing new, — vines and grapes." 



362 Young Folks' History of Boston. 

"Is that true?" 

" Yes, I was born in the land of grapes." 

" We will gather grapes," said Leif. 

The Northmen had never before heard of this fruit, but 
the German was thoroughly conversant with its properties 
and uses, and speedily acquainted his companions with it. 

They filled the stern of one of their boats with clusters of 
grapes, and bore them away with them towards their own 
barren coast. 

Leif named it Wineland because of the abundance of the 
grapes in this region. For various reasons, which it is not 
necessary to state, Wineland is supposed to be the present 
Massachusetts and Rhode Island. On this supposition, the 
island on which Leif landed is Nantucket ; the mainland, 
north from it, Cape Cod. The Booths, probably, were near 
the site of the Bristol of to-day. After passing a few months 
in Wineland, Leif sailed for Greenland, which he reached in 
safety. From the success of his voyage he was thenceforth 
known as Leif, the Lucky. 

So great an interest was aroused among the Greenlanders 
by Leif's discoveries that, in the autumn of 1001, his brother 
Thorvald set out upon an expedition to these newly found 
regions. He made the Booths his winter quarters. 

In the spring of 1002 he sailed towards the east and was 
wrecked upon a cape to which, from its resemblance to the 
keel of a ship, he gave the name Kialarness — Keel Cape ; 
the Cape Cod of to-day. 

Having repaired his ship, he took a westerly course, and 
soon reached a most beautiful promontory. So attractive in 
its appearance was it, he determined to make it the place of 
his permanent abode. 

Here the Scandinavians came upon three canoes, each 
containing three persons whom they designated Skraellingar 
— Esquimaux. There was an encounter between the two 



ioo: 



Leif. 365 



parties, which resulted in the death of eight of the natives 
and the flight of the ninth. The fugitive shortly returned with 
new forces and resumed the combat, which quickly termi- 
nated in the discomfiture of the aggressors. 

Thorvald, however, was mortally wounded in the engage- 
ment ; and, calling his followers around him, he advised their 
immediate return to Greenland. 

" But," said he, " first bury me on the beautiful promontory. 
Put a cross at my head and another at my feet, and let the 
name of the place be Krossanes" — Cape Cross. This is, 
supposably, some point near Plymouth, or at the extremity of 
Nantasket Beach. 

A beautiful story is told about the gentle conduct of Thor- 
vald in meeting his enemies, a story worthy of the pen of a 
poet. 

xie saw the boats of the savages approaching and noted 
the warlike attitude of the natives. 

" Put up the war screens," he said, " and defend yourselves 
as well as you can, but do not let us use our weapons against 
them." 

When the battle was over he said, — 

" Is any one wounded? " 

" No," was the answer. 

"/," said the gentle navigator, "have received a wound. 
It is under my arm. It will be my death wound." 

What a truly heroic soul Thorvald must have had ! He 
deserves a monument as much as Leif. 



"Society needs the well-trained, enlarged, and cultivated intellect of the 
scholar, in its midst ; needs it, and welcomes it, and gives it a place, or, by its 
own capacity, it will take a place of honor, influence, and power. The youthful 
scholar has no occasion to deplore the fate that is soon to tear him from his 
studies, and cast him into the swelling tide of life and action. None of his 
disciplinary and enriching culture will be lost, or useless, even there. Every 
hour of study, every truth he has reached, and the toilsome process by which he 
reached it ; the heightened grace or vigor of thought or speech he has acquired, 
— all shall tell fully, nobly, if he will give heed to the conditions. And one 
condition, the prime one, is, that he be a true man, and recognize the obligation 
of a man, and go forth with heart, and will, and every gift and acquirement dedi- 
cated lovingly and resolutely to the true and the right. These are the terms ; 
and apart from these there is no success, no influence to be had, which an in- 
genuous mind can desire, or which a sound and far-seeing mind would dare to 
seek." 

George Putnam. 



CHAPTER XX. 

THE OLD BOSTON SCHOOLS, 

We recently called upon that hale but venerable Bos- 
tonian, General H. K. Oliver, well known as an educator, 
an honored State officer during the late war, and the writer 
of " Federal St." and other musical compositions, for the 
purpose of asking information concerning the old Boston 
schools. The General for an hour or more related to us 
amusing anecdotes of his old school-days, and gave us one 
of his published addresses, entitled " How I was Educated," 
which presents a clear view of a schoolboy's life in Boston 
nearly seventy years ago. 

" A short distance above Milk Street and a less distance 
above the old Province House, on Marlborough Street, now 
called Washington," says General Oliver in this address, " stood 
my father's house, to and from the barn of which I daily 
drove my father's cow from Boston Common through Brom- 
field's Lane. 

"In 1805 I was placed under the educational influence 
of one Mr. Hayslop, who kept school on the corner of 
Franklin and Washington Streets. Well do I recall the 
look of the building, the old time-stained walls of wood, its 
old door, its old stairway, up which our little feet bore us to 
the old school-room, on the second floor, where ruled and 
feruled the good old master." 

General Oliver describes the pedagogue's dress as unique 
in the extreme, from foot to head, "with its square-toed 

24 



370 



Young Folks' 1 History of Boston. 



shoes and ponderous buckles, gray stockings, tabby-velvet 
breeches, and knee-buckles, vest of exaggerated length, ruffled 
shirt, seedy coat, with pockets vast and deep, ironed stock, 
and powdered wig." The General, speaking of his primary 
training, says it took him six weeks to learn the alphabet, 
though he found out correctly the names of all the scholars 
and his master's family in less than a week, — a good testi- 
mony certainly to the happy influence of object teaching. 

We should judge 
from the following 
anecdote that boys 
then as now sought 
to improve all their 
opportunities. 

" I well recall," 
says General Oliver, 
" one instance of 
severity at my first 
teacher's hands ; 
like many other 
calamities it proved 
a blessing in dis- 
guise. For some 
roguery of mine, 
the good man shut me up in a closet ' black as Erebus and 
deepest night : ' — 

" ' No sun, no moon ; all dark, amid the blaze of noon.' 

Quivering with fright, I tried to penetrate the murky gloom. 
Blessed with keen nasal powers, I thought, as I became more 
calm, that I smelt some odorous savors sweet, and I soon 
found, greatly to my relief and comfort, that I was incarcer- 
ated in a store-closet wherein were boxes of sugar and tooth- 
some things in general. I turned my attention to these sources 




THE OLD PEDAGOGUE. 



The Old Boston Schools. 



371 



of relief. When the door was opened, I made a straight line 

for home, considerably worse for gorging, and forgiving 

Master Hayslop in my heart. 

" From this school," says the General, " I was removed to 

Madam Tileston's in Hanover Street. I was a restless lad, 

and Madam Tileston's customary punishment was sundry 

smart taps on my head, with the middle finger of her right 

hand, which was armed with a rough steel thimble. She 

once pinned me fast 

to a cushion of her 

chair, and following 

her example I also 

pinned her, when 

she was not looking, 

to the same seat. 

Shortly after, she 

arose to .perform 

some duty. It was 

a triplicate transit, | 

when the threefold ^ 
firm of Tileston, 
Cushion, and Oliver 
changed base." 

From Mrs. Diaz, 
who has published some popular articles on the subject in 
the Youth's Companion, we also collect some comical pict- 
ures of old-time primary schools. 

"One of my teachers," says Mrs. Diaz, "was Marm Leon- 
ard. She used to wear a ruffled vandyke and a necklace of 
large blue beads, and a row of reddish false curls on each 
side of her forehead. 

" Marm Leonard had a faculty for contriving punishments 
suitable to the nature of the offence. For example, when 
little Sethy dishing tied his comforter around a kitten, and 




EAR PINCERS. 



372 Youiig Folks History of Boston. 

hung it on the clothes-line, she tied the comforter around 
little Sethy Cushing, and hung him on the crane in her great 
kitchen fireplace. Of course, the fireplace was not at that 
time in use. 

" Scholars who told lies had mustard put on their tongues. 
When a little girl stole a vial of boxberry cordial from one of 
the other children, Marm Leonard held that little girl's fingers 
over the redhot coals. 

" She had also other ways of persuading us to avoid the 
evil and take to the good. She kept a thin, oval-shaped 
silver locket, marked ' Best Scholar,' for the best scholar 
to wear. She also had ribbon bows of blue, pink, light-green, 
and black. All the good scholars went home with bright 
bows pinned on their shoulders. The marm had but one 
black bow, and that was reserved to be pinned on the one 
who was unusually bad. 

" I must not forget to mention the Catechism, — or ' Cate- 
chise,' as it was usually called, — for in that Marm Leonard 
drilled us well. At the summons, ' All stand up and say 
' your Catechise ! ' we all stood up in a straight line on a crack 
of the floor. She put out the questions in a high-pitched 
tone of voice, speaking very fast, and we answered with equal 
rapidity, running the words together and scampering along 
without stopping to breathe. In fact, we answered in one 
long word. 

" The ' Catechise ' contained one hundred and seven 
questions, their answers, the Lord's Prayer, the ' Ten Com- 
mandments,' and the Creed. Some of the scholars knew 
the book through, and the ' Primer ' besides. 

" The Primer was a thin book, about five inches long and 
four wide, with blue covers and leather binding. It had a 
woodcut of John Hancock, and a number of very small 
woodcuts, one for every letter of the alphabet. These were 
placed up and down the pages, six in a page, at the left-hand 



An Id-Time School Committee. 373 

side, each with its couplet at the right. Thus, for ' A ' there 

was the couplet, — 

" ' In Adam's Fall 
We sinned all.' 

" In the picture there were two droll-looking human images, 
whose bond of union seemed to be an apple, which both 
of them were holding. They stood close to a tree. It looked 
like a cedar or a hemlock tree, but we knew it to be an apple- 
tree, because there were apples on it. We were sure they 
were apples, for we had heard the story again and again. 
Around the trunk was coiled a serpent of the size — so it 
seemed to us — of a small anaconda, for with only two coils 
it reached from the ground to the branches. 

" For ' O ' there were three human images, two of them 
with crowns and sceptres, and the triplet, — 

" ' Young Obadias, 
David, Josias, 
All were pious.' 

" Beside the pictures and rhymes, the Primer contained 
the alphabet, the 'abs,' a few pages of ' spelling words,' a 
variety of ' Lessons and Maxims for Children,' several 
prayers, the whole of the Catechism, the Golden Rule, and 
a number of verses, texts, and so forth." 

Mrs. Diaz in the same admirable papers thus gives a picture 
of an old-time school committee and one of their visits to 
the town school : — 

" It was always a marked event when the ' committee ' 
visited the school. If the President and all his Cabinet were 
to walk into the room where I am writing, they would not 
seem half so stately and grand to me as did those four 
gentlemen who used to visit the school once or twice during 
the winter. They came up from town on horseback ; a 
wheeled vehicle was rarely seen in those days. Their arrival 



374 Young Folks History of Bosto7i. 

was usually announced by some scholar who had peeped 
through a crack, or who had stood up and looked out of the 
window. 

" ' Committee 's come ! ' was the whisper which ran through 
the room. 

" Its effect was magical. The schoolmaster, startled by the 
sudden silence, would throw a hurried glance at the window, 
and then try to put on a serene and lamb-like expression. 
We would listen as still as mice till we heard voices outside ; 
then came steps in the entry ; then a rap at the door. At 
the moment of their entrance the stillness was such that we 
hardly breathed. 

" Oh, how majestic they looked with their nice broadcloth 
(our folks wore homespun), their ruffled shirts, their heavy 
watch-seals, and their gold-headed canes ! Walking along the 
alley-way, they fairly lighted up that dingy, low-walled little 
building. With what an air they looked down upon us ! 
How could anything we might do seem good in their sight? 

" They usually heard the classes read, looked at the writing- 
books, and gave out • spellings.' Mr. Bixby was the most 
pompous member of the committee. He felt himself the 
grandest. I remember his hanging cheeks, and his quick, 
puffy way of talking. I also recall what he once said when 
the other gentlemen were in favor of our taking up a new 
study. 

" ' Oh, it's of no consequence — no consequence at all ! 
They are not intended to grace a drawing-room.' 

" The ' committee ' heard us all read and spell, turned over 
the leaves of the writing-books, talked in undertones with the 
schoolmaster and with each other, said ' a few words ' to 
the scholars, — then they walked out, hats and canes in hand, 
and the whole school standing as they passed down the alley. 
When, at last, the closing door shut them out, it seemed as if 
the school-room had met with an eclipse. 



Boston Latin School. 375 

" We listened in silence while they trotted away, and then, 
as if just awakened from a dream, scholars resumed their 
mischief-making, the schoolmaster his natural expression of 
countenance, and flogging, hair-pulling, and ear- pulling went 
on as usual, accompanied by the whizzing of rulers." 



THE BOSTON LATIN SCHOOL. 

The Boston Public Latin School is older than Harvard 
College, and was the first educational institution of the coun- 
try. " Its first masters," says Henry F. Jenks in an article in 
the Harvard Register, " might have seen Shakspeare act in 
his own plays ; its second master preceded John Milton and 
John Harvard at Cambridge, England, by nearly a quarter of 
a century." 

It was doubtless founded by John Cotton, " who brought 
to this country a knowledge of the High School which was 
founded by Philip and Mary in Boston, Lincolnshire,, in 1554, 
in which Latin and Greek were taught." The Boston Latin 
School, we are informed, was established " on the 1 3th of the 
2d moneth, 1635." No single school has prepared for the 
larger duties of life so many distinguished Americans. The 
names of its eminent graduates would fill pages. We give a 
few of them here : — 

Patriots. 

Benjamin Franklin. Samuel Adams. 

John Hancock. R. T. Paine. 

Governors and Lieutenant-Governors . 

Bowdoin. dishing. 

Eustis. Winthrop. 



376 Young Folks History of Boston. 

Presidents of Harvard College. 
Leverett. Everett. 

Langdon. Eliot. 

Clergymen. 

Cotton Mather. Henry Ward Beecher. 

Joseph Tuckerman. John F. W. Ware. 

N. L. Frothingham. Edward E. Hale. 

James Freeman Clarke. Phillips Brooks. 
William Henry Charming. 

Mayors. 

Flarrison G. Otis. Frederic O. Prince. 

Samuel A. Elliot. 

Statesmen. 

Robert C. Winthrop. Charles Sumner. 

Charles Francis Adams. William M. Evarts. 

George S. Hillard. Charles Devens. 

Literary Me?i. 

R. W. Emerson. Francis Parkman. 

J. Lothrop Motley. Alexander Young. 

N. P. Willis. 

We condense from an article in Education prepared by 
a Boston school officer, a brief history of this remarkable 
school : — 

Among other proceedings of "a generall meeting upon publique no- 
tice," held " 13 th of ye 2 d moneth [April], 1635," we find the following 
duly recorded : " Likewise it is gen r ally agreed vpon y l o r brother 
Philemon Pormort " (sometimes spelled Portmorte) " shal be in treated 
to become schulemaster for the teaching and nourtering of children w th 
us." For his support, a tract of land of thirty acres at " Muddy River" 



Boston Latm School. 



377 



(supposed to be a part of Brookline) was allotted. Other grants of land 
were subsequently made for the maintenance of a "Free Schoole for the 
Towne." An income also was derived from the letting of " Deare 
Island" of £j per annum, for three years, 1644-47, which was appro- 
priated to the support of the school. On the expiration of the lease in 
1647, it was renewed for seven years at £14. per annum, and the next 
year was extended to 
twenty years at the same 
rent. It appears, more- 
over, that before the ex- 
piration of the twenty 
years — i. e., in the year 
1662 — the island was 
leased to Sir Thomas 
Temple, Knight and 
"Barronnight," for thir- 
ty-one years at a rent of 
£14. a year, "for the use 
of the ' Free Schoole."' 

The immediate suc- 
cessors of Mr. Pormort 
were Daniel Maude, 
John Woodbridge, Rob- 
ert Woodmansey, Ben- 
jamin Thompson, and 
Nathaniel Williams. 

One of the ushers of 
the school, for some 
time previous to the 

resignation of Mr. Williams, was John Lovell. " Master Lovell " may be 
said to have been one of the "institutions" of Boston. For four years 
he was the assistant master, and for forty-two years the head-master of the 
Latin School. A part of this period was a time of the most exciting 
character, embracing as it did the years which immediately preceded the 
Revolutionary War. Not a few of the men who were prominent in those 
times had been the pupils of "Master Lovell," and had been subjected 
to his rigid discipline as an instructor. In this discipline he is said to 
have been rough and severe. His portrait may be seen in the Harvard 
Memorial Hall, "drawn," says Judge C ranch, as quoted by Mr. Jenks, 
in his sketch of the Boston Latin School, "by his pupil Smibert, while 
the terrific impressions of the pedagogue were yet vibrating on his nerves. 




JOHN LOVELL. 



378 Young Folks History of Boston. 

I found it so perfect a likeness of my old neighbor that I did not won- 
der when my young friend told me, ' A sudden, undesigned glance at it 
made me shudder.' " Lovell was a bitter Tory, and did not hesitate to 
give expression to his sentiments in his school. It is not unlikely that 
views advanced by a teacher not especially beloved by his pupils may 
have been looked upon with disdain because they were enforced by lips 
which too often indulged in words of censure and fault-finding. An an- 
tidote, however, to the Royalist poison was found in the teachings and 
influence of his assistant and son James, who was as strong a Whig as 
his father was Tory. We are told that "the two masters occupied 
desks at the opposite ends of the room ;" and a pupil of a later day 
pictures them as "pouring into infant minds as .they could, from the 
classics of the empire or the historians of the republic, the lessons of 
absolutism or of liberalism." That one of these pupils caught his inspi- 
ration from the so-called " rebel " James is plain from the following 
incident, which is related of Harrison Gray Otis : " Coming to school 
April 19, 1775, he found his way stopped by Percy's brigade drawn up 
across the head of School Street, in preparation for their march to Lex- 
ington. He had to pass down Court Street and come up School, and 
just entered the room to hear Master Lovell dismiss the boys : ' War 's 
begun and school 's clone : Deponite libros.' 1 ' Upon the evacuation of 
Boston by the British, "Master Lovell" went to Halifax, where he 
died. 

The books used at this period were : First year, Chee- 
ver's "Accidence," " Nomenclatura Brevis," Corderius's 
" Colloquies." Second year, ^sop's " Fables," " Eutropius," 
Ward's Lilly's Grammar. Third and fourth years, Clark's 
Introduction, Caesar's Commentaries, Tully's Orations, the 
yEneid, Xenophon, and Homer. 

" The methods of Mr. Benjamin Apthorp Gould (at the time of his 
election a member of the Senior class of Harvard College) were, in 
many respects, just the opposite of his immediate predecessors. He 
sought to break down the barriers which hitherto had existed between 
teacher and pupil, and make his scholars feel that he was their personal 
friend. Like that prince of instructors, Dr. Thomas Arnold, he ap- 
pealed to the manly and generous side of the nature of his scholars, 
inspiring their confidence and winning their affection, while he com- 



1 6 4 5- 



Boston Lathi School. 



379 



manded their respect in the enforcement of salutary rules, the justice and 
propriety of which they could not themselves help acknowledging. Mr. 
Gould held his position some fifteen years, 1813-28, when he resigned. 

" The successor of Mr. 
Gould was his assistant, 
Frederic P. Leverett. He 
is best known as the au- 
thor of the Latin lexicon 
which was so extensively 
used in our advanced 
schools forty or fifty 
years since. He re- 
mained in office three 
years, 1828-31, when he 
resigned to take charge 
of a private school. For 
four years previous to 
the year of Mr. Lev- 
erett's resignation, Mr. 
Charles K. Dillaway, a 
graduate of Harvard 
College in the class of 
1825, had been the sub- 
master. He was now 

chosen master of the school, and was in office five years, 1831-36, when 
he resigned, and Mr. Leverett was reappointed and accepted, but before 
the time had arrived for commencing his duties he died. 

" Mr. Epes Sargent Dixwell, a graduate of Harvard College in the class 
of 1827, and sub-master of the school for a year and nine months, was 
appointed to fill the place made vacant by the decease of Mr. Leverett. 
He remained in office till 185 1 ; he then resigned and established a 
private school in Boston. 

" The successor of Mr. Dixwell was Francis Gardner, himself a pupil 
of the Latin School, and a graduate of Harvard College in the class of 
1 83 1. He was connected with the department of instruction from the 
time of his graduation to the day of his death, about twenty-five years, 
during all this long period being absent from the city only one year, 
which he passed abroad." 




CHARLES K. DILLAWAY. 



The Latin School was begun on School Lane, now School 



38o 



Young Folks History of Boston. 



Street, where City Hall now stands. In regard to its locations 
we again quote from the article in Education : — 

" The exact position of the first schoolhouse is not known : but it is 
matter of record that just ten years after the first employment of Mr. 
Pormort the town purchased of Mr. Thomas Scottow his dwelling-house 
and yard, which at this time (the 31st of March, A. D. 1645) was situated 
on the very lot upon a part of which the City Hall now stands ; and that in 





FIRST LATIN SCHOOL, SCHOOL LANE. 

the October following the constables of the town were ordered to set off six 
shillings of the rate of Mr. Henry Messenger, the northerly abutter, ' for 
mending the schoolm r his p* of the partition fence between their gardens.' 
On this spot stood the first schoolhouse in Boston of which we have 
any positive knowledge ; edging westerly upon the burial-ground, and 
fronting southerly upon the street which obtained its designation, School 
Lane, from this fact. As time wore on the old schoolhouse, which had 
served not only as a place for nurturing the youth of the town but also 
for the indwelling of the master and his family, fell into decay ; and in 
order to make room for an enlargement of the neighboring chapel, it was 
taken down in 1748, and another building was erected on the opposite 
side of the street. ' Master Lovell' opposed the removal ; but the town 
agreed to it in a tumultuous meeting (April 18, 1748), by two hundred 



Harvard College. 383 

and five yeas to one hundred and ninety-seven nays. In the afternoon 
of the same day this epigram was sent to Mr. Lovell : — 

" ' A fig for your learning ! I tell you the Town, 
To make the Church larger, must pull the School down. 
Unluckily spoken, replied Master Birch, — 
Then leartiitig; I fear, stops the growth of the Church* " 

Dr. Shurtleff continues his sketch : " In course of time, also, this 
building yielded to the effects of age and inadequacy, and was renewed 
about the year 1812," — on the site of the Parker House. " Up to this 
time the building was designated as the Centre Schoolhouse, after which 
time it was properly called the Latin Schoolhouse.' This building 
gave place to the one on Bedford Street, erected in the years 1843-44." 

Strange stories are told of the discipline of these old-time 
schools from fifty to one hundred and fifty years ago. 

Good Dr. Johnson, of the " English Dictionary," once had 
a teacher who wrote a spelling-book and dedicated it "To the 
Universe •" Perhaps it was the comprehensive mind of this 
teacher that made Dr. Johnson a philologist. In speaking of 
the severe discipline of the schools of the time, Dr. Johnson 
says that his teacher would punish a boy for not answering 
a question, whether the boy had any opportunity to know the 
answer or not. 

" He would ask him the Latin for candlestick, and if he 
could not answer he would beat him." 

General Oliver, in speaking of the punishments inflicted by 
one of the teachers in the Latin School, says : — 

" He gave me a whipping, but soon after discovered that 
I was not guilty of the act for which I had been whipped.* 
1 Never mind, Oliver,' he said, ' I will put this to your credit 
for the next misconduct, and it will not be long before the 
account will stand all right.' " The General says he soon 
cancelled the account. 

The new Latin School building on Dartmouth Street and 
Warren Avenue, erected for the use of the High School as 



384 Young Folks History of Boston. 

well as the Latin School, is the finest structure in America 
devoted to educational purposes, and the largest in the world 
as a free public school. It was begun in 1877 and com- 
pleted in 1880. It is 339 feet long, 220 feet wide, and con- 
tains fifty-six school-rooms. It has an elegant exhibition 
hall 62X82, and a drill hall 130X60. The halls, passages, 
corridors, and stairways more resemble an academy of art than 
a school building. Statuary, pictures, and adornments of art 
meet the visitor on every hand. No one interested in edu- 
cation should visit Boston without seeing this elegant little 
city of school-rooms, and gaining the inspiration that such a 
noble structure inspires. 



HARVARD COLLEGE. 

The beginning of Harvard College in Cambridge, of which 
we would speak briefly, was similar to that of the Boston 
Latin School. Boston had been settled six years when, in 
the autumn of 1636, the General Court voted the sum of 
^400 towards the erection of a college. In November, 1637, 
the college was " ordered to be at Newtown," and in the 
following spring it was enacted that " Newtown shall hence- 
forward be called Cambridge," in honor of the place of 
education of many of the colonists. 

In 1638 Rev. John Harvard of Charlestown died, leaving 
to the institution one half of his estate and the whole of his 
library. In return for the benefaction it was ordered that, 
" The college to be built in Cambridge be called Harvard 
College." 

Mr. Nathaniel Eaton was the first master of this school. 
He belonged to the old type of teachers. "A mere Or- 
bilius," says Hubbard, " fitter to have been an officer in the 
inquisition, or master of an house of correction than an 



Institute of TecJino logy, 385 

instructer of christian youth." We must doubt his fitness 
even for the position of an officer in a penal institution, for 
he demeaned himself " in such a scandalous and cruel man- 
ner," as a teacher at Cambridge, that he was dismissed. In 
1638 commenced the regular course of academic instruction 
in the new college, and in 1642 nine young men graduated 
and received their degrees. 

The bequest of Harvard amounted to only about ,£780, 
but it promoted the establishment of a university which to- 
day has more than twelve hundred students ; a million in 
endowment ; theological, law, medical, and scientific schools 
of the highest reputation in America; and whose elegant 
buildings fill a park and would constitute a town. 

John Harvard was buried in Charlestown. A monument 
in the old burying-ground was erected to his memory by 
Harvard students, and was dedicated in 1828. 



COLLEGES IN BOSTON. 

Boston University seems destined to be one of the most 
popular and influential schools in America. It was founded 
in 1869 by Isaac Rich, Lee Claflin, and Jacob Sleeper. It 
includes three colleges, four professional schools, and a post- 
graduate scientific school. It admits females on the same 
conditions as males, and its standard of admission is very 
high. Its principal buildings are on Beacon Street, near the 
Athenaeum, but its schools are located in different parts of 
the city. It is richly endowed, and all of its schools are 
attended with remarkable success. 

The Massachusetts Institute of Technology, a school of 
industrial science, was founded in 1861. It has forty instruc- 
tors and three hundred students. The Institute is on the 
Back Bay, has a noble Greek front, and is one of the finest 
edifices in the city. 

25 



386 Young Folks' History of Boston. 

Such were some of the schools of the past, and such are 
some of the great institutions of learning at the present time. 
Truly the founders of Boston " built better than they knew." 
The influence of Boston schools is felt in every State of 
the Union, and is one of the elements of strength of the 
Republic. 



" When, from the sacred garden driven, 

Man fled before his Maker's wrath, 
An angel left her place in heaven, 

And crossed the wanderer's sunless path. 
'T was Art, sweet Art ! New radiance broke 

Where her light foot flew o'er the ground ; 
And thus with seraph voice she spoke, — 

1 The Curse a Blessing shall be found.' 

" She led him through the trackless wild, 

Where noontide sunbeam never blazed ; 
The thistle shrunk, the harvest smiled, 

And Nature gladdened as she gazed. 
Earth's thousand tribes of living things, 

At Art's command, to him are given j 
The village grows, the city springs, 

And point their spires of faith to heaven. 

" He rends the oak, and bids it ride, 

To guard the shores its beauty graced ; 
He smites the rock, — upheaved in pride, 

See towers of strength and domes of taste. 
Earth's teeming caves their wealth reveal, 

Fire bears his banner on the wave, 
He bids the mortal poison heal, 

And leaps triumphant o'er the grave. 

" He plucks the pearls that stud the deep, 

Admiring Beauty's lap to fill ; 
He breaks the stubborn marble's sleep, 

And mocks his own Creator's skill ; 
With thoughts that swell his glowing soul, 

He bids the ore illume the page, 
And proudly scorning Time's control, 

Commerces with an unborn age. 

" In fields of air he writes his name, 

And treads the chambers of the sky ; 
He reads the stars, and grasps the flame 

That quivers round the Throne on high. 
In war renowned, in peace sublime, 

He moves in greatness and in grace ; 
His power, subduing space and time, 

Links realm to realm, and race to race." 

Charles Sprague. 



CHAPTER XXI. 

THE ASSOCIATIONS OF BOSTON POETRY. 

The first Boston poet was Rev. John Cotton, whom Cotton 
Mather calls the " father and glory of Boston." He was the 
second pastor of the earliest church, a correspondent of 
Cromwell, and a most conscientious and zealous preacher. 
He thus alludes to his work in the new colony in one of his 
poems : — 

" When I think of the sweet and gracious company 
That at Boston once I had, 
And of the long peace of a fruitful ministry 
For twenty years enjoyed." 

His skill as a poet may be seen in the following quaint, 
elegant, and ingenious lines addressed to Rev. Thomas 
Hooker of Hartford : — 

" To see three things was holy Austin's wish, — 
Rome in her flower, Christ Jesus in the flesh, 
And Paul in the pulpit : lately men might see 
Two first and more in Hooker's ministry. 

Zion in beauty is a fairer sight 
Than Rome in flower, with all her glory dight : 
Yet Zion's beauty did more clearly shine 
In Hooker's rule and doctrine : both divine. 



390 Young Folks History of Boston. 

" Christ in the spirit is more than Christ in flesh, 
Our souls to quicken and our states to bless, 
Yet Christ in spirit brake forth mightily 
In faithful Hooker's searching ministry. 

" Paul in the pulpit Hooker could not reach, 
Yet did he Christ in spirit so lively preach 
That living hearers thought he did inherit 
A double portion of Paul's lively spirit." 

Governor Bradford of Plymouth Colony, one of the May- 
flower's pilgrims, was also a poet. We give a single specimen 
of his verse : — 

TO BOSTON. 

" O Boston, though thou now art grown 
To be a great and wealthy town, 
Yet I have seen thee a void place, 
Shrubs and bushes covering thy face, 
And house in thee none were there, 
Nor such as gold and silk did wear, 
No drunkenness were then in thee, 
Nor such excess as now we see, 
We then drunk freely of thy spring, 
Without paying of anything." 

A picture of the Golden Age indeed. 

The favorite poet of the colony was Anne Bradstreet, 
daughter of Governor Dudley. She had an English reputa- 
tion, and was greatly admired and praised by Cotton Mather. 
She was an ambitious writer and made free use of obscure 
classical quotations. One of her long poems is entitled 
" The Four Monarchies of the World." 

We have spoken of Mather Byles's poetry. Benjamin Frank- 
lin wrote poems, and John Quincy Adams produced several 
elegant reflective poems which may be found in many col- 
lections. 



John Pierpont. 



391 



Richard H. Dana, who lately died at the age of more than 
ninety years, was the first of the generation of poets of the 
present century. Al- 
though he lived to be 
so old he closed his 
literary work in middle 
age. He was a man of 
excellent influence both 
in literature and private 
life. 

The fine historic 
poem found in many 
school Readers and 
Speakers entitled " The 
Dirge of Alaric the 
Visigoth " was written 
by Edward Everett at 
Harvard College. benjamin franklin. 




We now come to a generation of poets whose works are 
the classics of American literature. 



PIERPONT. 

John Pierpont, author of the "Airs of Palestine," and in 
his day the poet of Boston's great public occasions, was born 
at Litchfield, Connecticut, 1785. In 18 19 he was ordained 
pastor of Hollis Street Church. He was an eloquent ad- 
vocate of the temperance and the antislavery cause. At the 
age of seventy-six he went into the Union army as chaplain 
of a Massachusetts regiment, and was one of the oldest 
chaplains in the field. He died at Medford, 1866. As we 
have spoken of him elsewhere, we give but a brief notice in 
this connection. 



39 2 



Young Folks History of Boston. 



CHARLES SPRAGUE 



was known in the city as the " poet-banker." Like Pierpont, 
he was a descendant of one of the fine old New England 

families. He was educa- 
ted in the Franklin School. 
In 1825 he was elected 
cashier in the Globe Bank, 
and he held the office until 
the time of his death, or 
nearly half a century. 

He was a lover of his 
home, his family, and 
friends. Nearly all of his 
best-known poems were 
inspired by home affection, 
as for example : — 



" We are all here, 
Father, mother, sister, brother." 




CHARLES SPRAGUE. 



His lines entitled "The 
Brothers" have the same spirit, and show how sacred to him 
was his own hearth-stone : — 

" We in one mother's arms were locked, 
Long be her love repaid ! 
In the same cradle we were rocked, 
Round the same hearth we played. 

" We are but two : be that the bond 
To hold us till we die ; 
Shoulder to shoulder let us stand, 
Till side by side we lie." 

Next to his family Mr. Sprague loved his native city. We 
have heard it stated, we know not with what truth, that he 



Henry Ware, Jr. 393 

only spent one night out of the city for twenty-five years, 
and that on that occasion, on returning home, he expressed 
a wish to a friend that twenty-five years might pass ere he 
should spend a night out of Boston again. His finest poem, 
with which nearly every schoolboy is familiar, entitled " Ode 
on Art," and beginning : — 

" When, from the sacred garden driven, 
Man fled before his Maker's wrath," 

was written for the Mechanics' Fair, or the 6th Triennial 
Festival of the Mechanics' Charitable Association, in 1824. 
The exhibitions of this Association were way-marks in the 
progress of Boston's industrial arts ; the Mechanics' Building 
and Hall, on Chauncy and Bedford Streets, were built from the 
funds of this society, and the old Mechanics' Fair was a local 
pride and glory. A permanent building for the exhibition 
has just been completed on Huntington Avenue. 

The old Chauncy Street Church, which Sprague vaguely 
pictures in the poem entitled "The Winged Worshippers," is 
gone. The elegant structure on Berkeley Street known as 
the First Church is its successor. The society, before its 
removal to Chauncy Street, occupied the Old Brick Church, a 
quaint structure famous in early history, which stood where is 
now the Rogers Building, on Washington Street. 

HENRY WARE, JR. 

We took a walk, on a recent Sunday morning, to the 
Second Church, on the Boston Back Bay, which stands be- 
tween the Institute of Technology and the New Old South 
Church. The beautiful chapel is adorned with mural inscrip- 
tions containing the names of the pastors of the church, 
beginning with John Cotton and Cotton Mather, and ending 
with Ralph Waldo Emerson. Among the mural epitaphs is 
that of Henry Ware, Jr. He was pastor of the church as it 



394 Young Folks History of Boston. 

existed at its most flourishing period in another part of the 
city, for twelve years. 

There are men who come into the world royally endowed 
with dispositions and graces to exalt the aims and thoughts of 
those whom they reach by their influence. Such a man was 
Henry Ware. He was born at Hingham, Massachusetts, 
1794, and died in 1843. To live for the good of others was 
the inspiration of his stainless and prayerful youth. For 
twelve years one of the most cultivated congregations in 
Boston was drawn to his church. The edifice where he 
preached was called the Cockerell Church, from the un- 
churchly bird on the vane. It stood on Hanover Street. 
Charlotte Cushman began life as a public singer here. 

If a discriminating student of literature were to be asked 
what he considered the most sublime production of any 
New-England poet, he would probably answer, The lines to 
the Ursa Major by Henry Ware, Jr. It is almost the only 
Miltonic production of the American muse : — 

" Awake, my soul, 
And meditate the wonder ! Countless suns 
Blaze round thee, leading forth their countless worlds, — 
Worlds ill whose bosoms living things rejoice, 
And drink the bliss of being from the fount 
Of all-pervading Love. What mind can know, 
What tongue can utter, all their multitudes ! 
Thus numberless in numberless abodes, 
Known but to thee, blessed Father! Thine they are, — 
Thy children, and thy care, and none o'erlooked 
Of thee ! No ; not the humblest soul that dwells 
Upon the humblest globe which wheels its course 
Amid the giant glories of the sky, 
Like the mean mote that dances in the beam 
Amongst the mirrored lamps, which fling 
Their wasteful splendor from the palace wall, 
None, none escape the kindness of thy care ; 
All compassed underneath thy spacious wing, 
Each fed and guided by thy powerful hand. 




KiLRtir 



THE "OLD BRICK" CHURCH. 



Henry Ware, Jr. 397 

" Tell me, ye splendid orbs ! as from your throne 
Ye mark the rolling provinces that own 
Your sway, — what beings fill those bright abodes? 
How formed, how gifted; what their powers, their state, 
Their happiness, their wisdom ? Do they bear 
The stamp of human nature ? Or has God 
Peopled those purer realms with loftier forms 
And more celestial minds ? Does Innocence 
Still wear her native and untainted bloom ? 
Or has Sin breathed his deadly blight abroad, 
And sowed corruption in those fairy bowers ? 
Has War trod o'er them with his foot of fire ? 
And Slavery forged his chains ? and Wrath and Hate 
And sordid Selfishness and cruel Lust 
Leagued their base bands to tread out light and truth, 
And scatter woe where Heaven had planted joy ? 
Or are they yet all paradise, unfallen 
And uncorrupt, existence one long joy, 
Without disease upon the frame, or sin 
Upon the heart, or weariness of life, 
Hope never quenched, and age unknown, 
And death unfeared ; while fresh and fadeless youth 
Glows in the light from God's near throne of love ? 
Open your lips, ye wonderful and fair ! 

" Speak, speak ! the mysteries of those living worlds 
Unfold ! No language ? Everlasting light, 
And everlasting silence ? Yet the eye 
May read and understand. The hand of God 
Has written legibly what man may know, — 
The glory of the Maker. There it shines, 
Ineffable, unchangeable ; and man, 
Bound to the surface of this pigmy globe, 
May know and ask no more. In other days, 
When death shall give the encumbered spirit wings, 
Its range shall be extended ; it shall roam, 
Perchance, amongst those vast, mysterious spheres ; 
Shall pass from orb to orb, and dwell in each 
Familiar with its children, learn their laws, 
And share their state, and study and adore 
The infinite varieties of bliss 



398 Young Folks' History of Boston. 

And beauty, by the hand of Power divine 
Lavished on all its works. Eternity 
Shall thus roll on with ever fresh delight ; 
No pause of pleasure or improvement ; world 
On world still opening to the instructed mind, — 
An unexhausted universe, and time 
But adding to its glories. While the soul, 
Advancing ever to the Source of light 
And all perfection, lives, adores, and reigns 
In cloudless knowledge, purity, and bliss." 

We make this copious extract from the poem for the pur- 
pose of giving force to an incident that is not well known. 

Henry Ware died in the prime of manhood. When the 
last hour was approaching, the thoughts and visions that had 
wrapt and entranced his mind when writing the majestic 
poem seemed to come back to him again. His mind went 
up, up to the golden circles and zones, and wandered again 
among the stars. " My mind," he said, " is crowded with 
precious thoughts of death and immortality. I feel like one 
who views the parting of the clouds on a dark night. Star 
after star begins to appear in the space beyond ; and the 
stars I see are but the sentinels of the radiant myriads yet 
to be revealed." 

The origin of another poem — a once popular school 
poem — illustrates the dignity of the writer's character. 
Henry Ware's friends were the representatives of wealth and 
cultured conservatism. But right, to him, was the first con- 
sideration, and he stood up grandly for the cause of the slave 
when antislavery ideas were unpopular in Boston. He be- 
lieved that the moral sense of America would break the fet- 
ters of the bondsman ; and he spoke of the coming day of 
universal liberty with the fire and assurance of an ancient 
prophet. The press assailed him ; the pulpit stood apart 
from him ; but the lamp of his faith burned with a steady flame. 
At this time, in the last years of his life, the great news of the 



Henry W. Longfellow. 399 

East Indian emancipation came ringing over the sea. Eng- 
land had emancipated 800,000 slaves. The abolitionists 
held a meeting for congratulation and rejoicing at Faneuil 
Hall. Ware was the poet of the enthusiastic occasion, 
and his muse caught the spirit of the event. He produced a 
poem that thrilled the audience and fired the reformers 
throughout the land. It was a key-note for freedom, and it 
stood as a prophecy for twenty years. It was the last poem 
of his life. How grandly it reads in the light of God's prov- 
idence to-day ! We need quote only the opening lines, for 
it is familiar to all who have had experience in elocutionary 
exercises : — 

" Oppression shall not always reign, 
There comes a brighter day." 

The story of its origin will explain the words which used to 
be mystical to us : — 

" Old Faneuil echoes to the roar, 
And rocks as never rocked before 
And ne'er shall rock again." 

Ware sleeps in Mount Auburn. 



HENRY W. LONGFELLOW. 

Some time ago, while collecting material for this chapter, 
we went to Cambridge. The horse-car stopped on a broad, 
shaded avenue, just outside of Old Cambridge, leaving us 
under the long, bright archway of October trees. It was a 
dreamy, hazy afternoon, in whose still, mellow air one might 
hear the crisp leaves as they dropped among the seared 
grasses and faded flowers. 

A little back from the avenue, garnished with billowy shrub- 
bery which the early autumn had so touched that every hedge 



400 Young Folks History of Boston. 

seemed to have its burning bush, and among old elms illumi- 
nated by spires and turrets of flame, stood an ancient man- 
sion, whose airy porticos and broad, stately appearance 
reminded the stranger that he looked upon a relic of colo- 
nial days. Everything around the mansion seemed quiet, 
grand, and old. The great elms embraced it with their 
glowing arms ; centennial elms they were, under whose shade 
Washington and Lafayette had stood. 

The house is the residence of Henry Wadsworth Longfel- 
low. All of our readers who love his pure poetry, so full of 
refreshment and exhilaration, have visited this old mansion, 
at least, in their dreams. 

" Somewhat back from the village street 
Stands the old-fashioned country-seat. 
Across its antique portico 
Tall poplar-trees their shadows throw. 
And from its station in the hall 
The ancient time-piece says to all, — 

Forever — never ! 

Never — forever ! " 

It was in this old house that the " Psalm of Life," " Ex- 
celsior," "Footsteps of Angels," "Hiawatha," and many 
other poems, familiar as household names, were written. 

The house was built for the Vassal family, who were among 
the most wealthy residents of Cambridge in colonial days. 
When under the Cambridge elms Washington took command 
of the American army, in July, 1775, this capacious mansion 
became his headquarters. Here, more than a hundred years 
ago, those distinguished persons whose names are associated 
with the Revolutionary history used to visit him. The house 
afterwards became the residence of the professors and presi- 
dents of Harvard College. In 1835 Mr. Longfellow, having 
been appointed Professor of Modern Languages and Litera- 



Henry W. Longfellow. 401 

ture in Harvard College, took up his residence in this historic 
house. 

The poet was born in Portland, Maine, in 1807. In his 
boyhood he was noted for his studious habits, and such were 
his brilliancy and industry that he entered Bowdoin College 
at the early age of fourteen. 

It is reported that his first compositions were rejected when 
offered to a publisher. However this may be, it is true that 
he wrote in his early years such beautiful poems as the 
"Hymn of the Moravian Nuns," "The Woods in Winter," 
and " The Spirit of Beauty." 

After his graduation he visited Europe, studying art and 
the modem languages in the grand old continental cities. 
His poems have since followed him into all the countries 
through which he travelled in youth, having been translated 
into all the principal European tongues. 

He made a second visit to Europe in 1835, before assuming 
the duties of the Harvard professorship. He studied in the 
old Northern cities, and there laid the foundation of those 
poems and works associated with Scandinavian history and 
literature. 

Professor Longfellow has lived forty years in the old man- 
sion. With a poet's reverence for old associations, he has 
refused to have the house altered in any respect, but has filled 
its antique rooms with books, pictures, statues, and flowers. 

We turned from the arched street and entered the open 
lawn, in whose low grass the late crickets were singing. We 
were led into the broad hall of the old mansion, through 
which a wide staircase ascends, and around which are hung 
pictures and other decorations of art, and where once the 
form of Washington was often seen. 

" Up and down the echoing stairs, 
Heavy with the weight of cares, 
Sounded his majestic tread." 
26 



402 Young Folks History of Boston. 

One of the old rooms occupied by Washington is his study, 
and to this we were led. It is a fine apartment, richly stored 
with cabinets of books and with choice works of art. On 
the table is Coleridge's inkstand, from which was possibly 
written the " Ancient Mariner." Among numerous relics 
near at hand are Tom Moore's waste-paper basket, and a 
small fragment of Dante's coffin. Green plants mingle with 
the works of art, and the busts of departed friends recall inci- 
dents of the years that live only in books or in memory. 

In this study stands an old clock, a stately piece of furni- 
ture, rising from floor to ceiling, and burnished with the deep, 
rich color that only age can give. It has sounded the hours in 
which many of the poet's best compositions have been writ- 
ten, and is made familiar by the poem, " The Old Clock on 
the Stairs." 

Longfellow's poems are as familiar as words of common 
comfort. Yet, unlike these words, they have not lost their 
sense of daily use. Nearly every one is acquainted with 
some of them ; most people know many of them ; every 
schoolboy reads and declaims them ; and every pulpit quotes 
them. When a speaker's best thoughts struggle for expres- 
sion he seeks their help ; when bereavement comes into the 
family these poems are moistened with tears. There are few 
lives which they have not befriended, and those they have 
touched, their virtue has refined and elevated. 

What a flight of " winged words " has gone out of this old 
mansion to minister to the refreshment of the world ! 

origin of Longfellow's poems. 

It may interest our readers to know the circumstances 
under which the most familiar of Longfellow's poems were 
written. 

The " Psalm of Life " was written in Cambridge on a fra- 
grant summer morning in 1838. Professor Longfellow was 



Longfellow s Poems. 403 

then a young man, hopeful and aspiring ; life lay open before 
him, and the poem but reflected the glow of the poet's spirit 
and expressed the longing of his heart. He regarded it at 
first as a personal meditation, like a hopeful entry in one's 
private diary, and refused to publish it. The poem was 
printed at last and flew over the world. A portion of it was 
lately found in Japan, inscribed in Japanese on a fan, which 
was sent to the poet, who now has it in his possession. 

" I was once riding in London," said Mr. Longfellow, 
"when a laborer approached the carriage and asked, 'Are 
you the writer of the " Psalm of Life " ? ' 

" < I am.' 

" ' Will you allow me to shake hands with you ? ' 

" We clasped hands warmly. The carriage passed on, and 
I saw him no more ; but I remember that as one of the most 
gratifying compliments I ever received, because it was so sin- 
cere." 

The " Footsteps of Angels," read by so many with tear- 
ful memories of the loved and lost, was also an expression of 
his own feelings. Mr. Longfellow's first wife, a lady of great 
excellence and loveliness of character, accompanied him to 
Europe, and died in Rotterdam in 1835. Her decease in 
the bright morning of life was one of the experiences that 
make his early poems so tender in their suggestiveness when 
they speak of bereavement. 

" Then the forms of the departed 
Enter at the open door ; 
The beloved, the true-hearted, 
Come to visit me once more. 



" And with them the being beauteous, 
Who unto my youth was given, 
More than all things else to love me, 
And is now a saint in heaven." 



404 Voting Folks' History of Boston. 

" Excelsior " was written late on an autumn evening in 
1 84 1. The poet had received a letter from Charles Sumner, 
which, we may suppose, was full of noble sentiments. The 
word "excelsior" caught his eye on a piece of newspaper; 
a poetic vision rose before him in harmony with the occasion 
and his stimulated feelings, and he wrote the first draught of 
the poem on the back of Mr. Sumner's letter. 

"The Wreck of the Hesperus" was written in 1839, at 
midnight. A violent storm had occurred the night before. 
The distress and disaster at sea had been great, especially on 
the capes of the New England coast. The poet was sitting 
in his study late at night, when the shadowy vision of the 
wrecked Hesperus came vividly before him. He went to bed 
but could not sleep. He arose and wrote the poem, which 
came into his mind by stanzas rather than by lines, finishing 
it just as the " old clock on the stairs " was striking three. 

Sir Walter Scott says that he was led to write the romance 
of Kenilworth because the first stanza of Mickle's famous 
ballad of Cumnor Hall haunted him. 

" The dews of summer night did fall ; 
The moon, sweet regent of the sky, 
Silvered the towers of Cumnor Hall, 
And many an oak that grew thereby." 

Longfellow attributes the writing of "The Wreck of the 
Hesperus " in part to the dreary sound of the words " Nor- 
man's Woe." 

" The Hanging of the Crane " has a very pleasing history. 
Longfellow made an evening call on a promising young poet 
who has since become known to the public. He found him, 
as the story is told, living in a cosey, humble way, with the 
tea-table drawn up before the fire, and only the young poet 
and his newly married wife at the board. 

" You are two now," said Longfellow, or words to this 
effect ; " before long little angels will gladden the household, 



Longfellow s Poems. 405 

and you will need a larger table. Years will pass and the 
table will grow ; then one by one the loved faces will leave 
you and you will be two at the table, as you are now. Why 
do you not write a romance on the Acadian custom of the 
hanging of the crane, giving distinctness to these family scenes 
and changes?" 

Ten years afterward Longfellow reverted to the subject, 
and asked the poet if he had attempted the romance. On 
learning that he had not, he himself wrote the poem which so 
vividly and elegantly pictures the usual course of domestic 
history. 

The story of Evangeline was first related to Longfellow by 
Hawthorne, who had been advised to write a romance upon 
it. But Longfellow gave the Acadian jewel a choicer setting. 
The story of Hiawatha was related to Schoolcraft by Abraham 
Le Fort, an Onondaga chief, and may in part be found in 
Schoolcraft's " Indian Tribes." Longfellow has woven much 
Indian legendary lore into the warp of the original tradition, 
which is in itself the poetry of romance. The " Tales of the 
Wayside Inn " were suggested by the old colonial hostelry at 
Sudbury, which may still be seen. 

The poems of Longfellow touch tenderly on sorrow, for 
his life has been full of affections and friendships broken by 
death. His first wife, as we have stated, died in a foreign 
land. His second wife died young, under very afflicting 
circumstances. His intimate friends, Hawthorne, Felton, 
Sumner, Agassiz, are gone. Thoughts of the unseen world 
seem ever welcome to his mind. One needs to know these 
facts of his personal history to understand how closely his 
inner life is reproduced in his poetry. His poems on bereave- 
ment are no affected sentiment, but the sincere language of a 
bereaved, trustful heart. 

The shadows were lengthening along the lawn, and the 
crickets singing plaintively in the hedges, as we turned reluc- 



406 Young Folks History of Boston. 

tantly away from the old house in which the spirit of departed 
days seems to linger, and around which, in the dim future, 
other memories will gather. 

It was evening when we returned to Boston, by way of the 
old Charles River Bridge, which some thirty years ago sug- 
gested to Longfellow the writing of his beautiful poem, " The 
Bridge," beginning, — 

" I stood on the bridge at midnight, 

As the clocks were striking the hour, 
And the moon rose o'er the city, 
Behind the dark church-tower. 



" And far in the hazy distance 
Of that lovely night in June, 
The blaze of the naming furnace 
Gleamed redder than the moon. 



" How often, O how often, 

In the days that had gone by 
I had stood on that bridge at midnight, 
And gazed on the wave and sky ! 

" How often, O how often, 

I had wished that the ebbing tide 
Would bear me away on its bosom 
O'er the ocean wild and wide ! 

" For my heart was hot and restless, 
And my life was full of care, 
And the burden laid upon me 
Seemed greater than I could bear." 



James Russell Lowell. 



409 



JAMES RUSSELL LOWELL. 

Among the living writers of poetry that Boston claims are 
James Russell Lowell, J. T. Trowbridge, T. B. Aldrich, and 
W. D. Howells. Though belonging to Boston's literary circle, 
they, like Longftllow and Whittier, are not, except for brief 




JAMES RUSSELL LOWELL. 



periods, residents of the city. Lowell lives at " Elmwood," 
an historic estate near Mount Auburn, associated in literature 
with his thoughtful work, " My Study Windows." Governor 
Oliver was mobbed here during the excitement that preceded 



410 Young Folks History of Boston. 

the Revolution. Mr. Lowell was born in 1819. In 1848 he 
published "The Vision of Sir Launfal " and "The Biglow 
Papers." He succeeded Mr. Longfellow as Professor of 
Modern Languages and Belles- Lettres at Harvard University 
in 1855. He has travelled extensively and is now U. S. 
Minister to the Court of St. James. Mr. Trowbridge lives at 
Arlington, on the borders of Spy Pond. His place is also 
associated with an incident of the Revolution. It is on Pleas- 
ant Street, one of the most beautiful streets in any New Eng- 
land town. Mr. Aldrich has done some of his best literary 
work at his country residence at Ponkapog, Massachusetts, 
but his home at present is in Boston. Mr. Howells resides 
in Belmont in a unique English house commanding beautiful 
views. He is neighbor to Mr. Trowbridge. 



OLIVER WENDELL HOLMES. 

The works of Dr. Oliver Wendell Holmes, more than those 
of any other poetical writer, are associated with Boston's 
history and with recent public events. He lives in Boston, is 
a home-poet, and for half a century has usually been invited 
to celebrate in song notable public occasions. He was born 
in Cambridge in 1809. He is a medical professor in Har- 
vard College, and has delivered medical lectures before the 
students in Boston for many years. In 1857 he began to 
publish in the Atlantic one of his most popular works, " The 
Autocrat of the Breakfast -Table." His poems, "Cambridge 
Churchyard," " Boston Common," " Under the Washington 
Elm," &c, are local pictures in verse. One of his poems, 
"The Dorchester Giant," pretends to explain a sight that any 
visitor to the Highlands may see, and it is so agreeable as a 
local fancy that we give it her^. 




OLIVER WENDELL HOLMES. 



The Dorchester Giant. ^3 



THE DORCHESTER GIANT. 

There was a giant in time of old, 

A mighty one was he ; 
He had a wife, but she was a scold, 
So he kept her shut in his mammoth fold ; 

And he had children three. 

It happened to be an election day, 

And the giants were choosing a king ; 
The people were not democrats then, 
They did not talk of the rights of men, 
And all that sort of thing. 

Then the giant took his children three 

And fastened them in the pen ; 
The children roared ; quoth the giant, " Be still ! " 
And Dorchester Heights and Milton Hill 

Rolled back the sound again. 

Then he brought them a pudding stuffed with plums 

As big as the State House dome ; 
Quoth he, M There 's something for you to eat ; 
So stop your mouths with your 'lection treat, 

And wait till your dad comes home." 

So the giant pulled him a chestnut stout, 

And whittled the boughs away ; 
The boys and their mother set up a shout ; 
Said he, " You 're in, and you can't get out, 

Bellow as loud as you may." 

Off he went, and he growled a tune 

As he strode the fields along ; 
T is said a buffalo fainted away, 
And fell as cold as a lump of clay, 

When he heard the giant's song. 



414 Young Folks History of Boston. 

But whether the story 's true or not, 

It is not for me to show ; 
There 's many a thing that 's twice as queer 
In somebody's lectures that we hear, 
And those are true, you know. 



What are those lone ones doing now, 
The wife and the children sad ? 

O ! they are in a terrible rout, 

Screaming, and throwing their pudding about, 
Acting as they were mad. 

They flung it over to Roxbury hills, 

They flung it over the plain, 
And all over Milton and Dorchester too 
Great lumps of pudding the giants threw ; 

They tumbled as thick as rain. 



Giant and mammoth have passed away, 

For ages have floated by ; 
The suet is hard as a marrow-bone, 
And every plum is turned to a stone, 

But there the puddings lie. 

And if, some pleasant afternoon, 

You '11 ask me out to ride, 
The whole of the story I will tell, 
And you shall see where the puddings fell, 

And pay for the treat beside. 



MRS. JULIA WARD HOWE. 

Mrs. Julia Ward Howe, author of the " Battle Hymn of 
the Republic," is a resident of Boston. She has written 
much in the interest of the charities of the city and of the 
social improvement of women. Among her best poems are 
" Lyrics of the Street." 



y antes T. Fields. 415 



JAMES T. FIELDS. 

The grave has recently closed over James T. Fields, who 
for years was the central figure among Boston publishers, 
editors, and literary men. He belonged to the publishing 
house of Ticknor & Fields. 

Mr. Fields was more than an author or a publisher. He 
was a sympathetic gentleman, who passed beyond the limita- 
tions of business and letters, that he might become the friend 
of the writers whose works he published. Several notable 
authors, as a tribute to the sympathy of the man, and the 
generosity of the publisher, dedicated to him their best works. 
Not a few poems and novels, now ranked among American 
classics, owed their appearance to Mr. Fields. It is not 
strange that these authors should become the friend of the 
man who had discerned their gold while in the ore. They 
associated themselves heartily with Ticknor & Fields, and 
helped to make the " Old Corner Bookstore " one of the 
landmarks of Boston, and famous in the annals of American 
literature. 

No publishing house could show a more brilliant galaxy of 
authors than Ticknor & Fields. Among American authors 
whose books bore their imprint were Longfellow, Whittier, 
Lowell, Holmes, Saxe, Bayard Taylor, Hawthorne, Whipple, 
Hillard, Stoddard, Stedman, Agassiz, Aldrich, Howells, Trow- 
bridge, Alice Cary, Gail Hamilton, Elizabeth Stuart Phelps, 
and Mrs. Harriet Beecher Stowe. 

Two visits which Mr. Fields made to England, where he 
was an honored guest, put the firm's name upon the works of 
De Quincy, Thackeray, Dickens, Tennyson, Kingsley, Reade, 
and Leigh Hunt. 

Mr. Fields, though intimately associated for fifty years with 
the literary and social life of the city, was a " Boston boy " 



41 6 Yotmg Folks History of Boston. 

only by adoption. He was born in Portsmouth, New Hamp- 
shire, Dec. 31, 181 7, and graduated from its High School at 
the age of thirteen. He came to Boston, a poor lad, to find 
a place where he might earn his living. He found it in a 
bookstore, and began at once to make the use of such talents 
as God had given him. 

His days were given to faithful clerkly service, and his 
nights to reading and composition. So well did he serve, 
and such were the taste and discernment which study de- 
veloped, that within twelve years he became a member of 
the firm. He made the name of Ticknor & Fields famous. 
Sagacious in divining the public taste, he was also quick to 
discern what young authors were likely to become eminent. 
His genial stimulus so encouraged these that they did their 
best work for the man who trusted them. 

While serving as a clerk, Mr. Fields developed by study 
and practice the poetical faculty with which he had been 
gifted. At the age of eighteen, he caught the public ear by 
a poem delivered before the Boston Mercantile Library Asso- 
ciation, on one occasion when Edward Everett was the 
orator. It was the beginning of a series of occasional poems 
recited at public commemorations and college commence- 
ments. Harvard and Dartmouth recognized the poet's 
merits, — the former by making him an A. M., and the latter 
by permitting him to annex, which he seldom did, LL.D. to 
his name. 

Mr. Fields also became favorably known as the contributor 
to several periodicals, and as the editor of the Atlantic 
Monthly. Subsequent to his retirement from the publishing 
business, he stood frequently upon the lecture platform. 
Appreciative audiences greeted him, and listened with 
pleasure to his reminiscences of the great authors whose 
works were their favorite reading. 

Mr. Fields's merit is not that he was a great poet or great 



A Protest. 417 

writer of English prose. His limitations kept him within the 
circle of minor poets. But what he undertook he did well. 
His work showed no marks of slovenliness. Good taste dic- 
tated what he should and should not say. 

Mr. Fields 's literary and business life is an example to youth. 
The poor lad made himself a name in the annals of literature. 
He did it by a kind heart, an energetic habit, and patient 
industry. He strove to make the best use of his talents, and 
to do so thoroughly his work that no carelessness would 
beget an occasion for apology. 

He was a man of the best moral influence. He had no 
sympathy with those who think it bold to trifle with the 
claims of religion. In his last years he gave to one of the 
editors of a popular publication for young people a little 
poem, saying, " I want to give my testimony to the value of 
Christian faith," or words of that import. We produce it 
here : — 

A PROTEST. 

Go, sophist ! dare not to despoil 

My life of what it sorely needs 
In days of pain, in hours of toil, — 

The bread on which my spirit feeds. 

You see no light beyond the stars, 

No hope of lasting joys to come ? 
I feel, thank God, no narrow bars 

Between me and my final home ! 

Hence with your cold sepulchral bans, — 

The vassal doubts Unfaith has given ! 
My childhood's heart within the man's 

Still whispers to me,-" Trust in Heaven ! " 



27 



" Do thou thy work ; it shall succeed 
In thine or in another's day, 
And if denied the victor's meed 

Thou shalt not miss the toiler's pay." 



CHAPTER XXII. 



ASSOCIATIONS OF WHITTIER'S POETRY. 






"Beautiful! beauti- 
ful ! " exclaimed Presi- 
dent Washington, in 
1789, as, riding into 
the town of Haverhill, 
his eye caught an ex- 
tended view of the 
Merrimack. It was 
autumn. The trees 
seemed jewelled with 
rubies and gold, and 
the streams went wind- 
ing away like a ribbon 
amid the unnumbered 
gems. " Haverhill," 
said Washington, " is 
the pleasantest village I ever passed through." 

His eye was feasted with a continuous picture of forest- 
crowned hills, dreamy valleys, shadowy woods, and sparkling 
waters. He must have felt that such a region deserved to be 
the birthplace of a true poet, and would be in time. 

There are poets who cull flowers from a limited field, and 
poets who gather blossoms in every land ; poets who travel 
over the world in search of scenes and associations of ro- 




JOHN G. WHITTIER. 



422 Young Folks' History of Boston. 

mance and beauty ; and untravelled poets to whom the world 
brings its riches in the solitude of fameless places. The trav- 
eller finds the associations of Moore's poetry on the streams 
of many lands, but the scenes of Wordsworth's poetry only on 
the quiet lakes of Grasmere and Windermere. 

A like contrast presents itself in two of our own poets. 
Longfellow, spending the calm decline of life in delicious re- 
tirement on the banks of the Charles, has delved in all mines 
for poetic treasures. He wandered over Europe in his stu- 
dent days, studying her poets in new languages, as he trav- 
elled ; and his own songs have since gone over the same 
journey, having been translated into all the languages he 
then learned. Whittier, in a busy little town on the Merri- 
mack, has found an ample field for poetic thought amid the 
scenes and associations of home. Though he has temporarily 
lived in several American cities, his muse has not often 
wandered from a single rural district in Massachusetts, com- 
prising less than twenty square miles. 

To this we must make two exceptions. No " pent-up 
Utica" confined his muse in those soul-stirring lyrics inspired 
by his intense love of liberty and hatred of oppression. 
" Massachusetts to Virginia," with its clarion tones, echoed 
and re-echoed from every hillside and through every valley, 
firing anew the patriotism so long dormant in the great and 
prosperous North. Closely related to this in spirit is his 
" Pennsylvania Pilgrim." Ready at all times to do justice to 
the Pilgrims of New England, who have not lacked historian 
and poet, he felt that the Quaker pilgrims of Pennsylvania, 
" seeking the same object by different means, had not been 
equally fortunate." In this little poem he has tried, and not 
in vain, to erect a simple monument over the unmarked 
resting-place of one of the two " historical forces with which 
no others may be compared in their influence on the 
people." 



Associations of Whittier s Poetry. 423 

Whoever reads the " Pennsylvania Pilgrim," with the notes, 
in which he has rescued a few names from oblivion, will have 
a picture, though drawn in sober colors, as becomes the sub- 
ject, in which the figures will stand out from the canvas in 
bolder relief as the ages glide away and the spirit of Christian- 
ity is better understood. 

With these exceptions, as we have said, the muse of Whit- 
tier seldom wandered beyond the limits of old Essex. 

But these twenty square miles of old Essex County are rich 
with poetic subjects, scenes of rural simplicity, landscapes 
diversified with river views and sea views, old colonial super- 
stitions, and historic and legendary lore. From the calm hills 
of East Haverhill, where the poet was born, to the murmur- 
ous beaches of Cape Ann, which he has famed in ballad, the 
region is worthy of a poet, and has found a poet faithful and 
true to the trusts of home. To this district the genius of 
Whittier has always turned in its poetic moods, like Gold- 
smith's to Auburn and Lissory, and like Burns's to the Doon 
and Ayr. While the poetry of Longfellow shows how thought 
is enriched by travel, the poetry of Whittier illustrates the 
wealth of beauty an observant mind may find in restricted 
limits and native soil. His songs are not the notes of mi- 
grations, but native inspirations, attuned to the hills? vales, 
and rivers of home. If we know less of the world at large 
by this untravelled culture, we know more of the rich en- 
dowments of special places and localities. His estimate of 
Wordsworth's poetic mission is a just measure of himself : — 

"The sunrise on his breezy lake, 

The rosy tints his sunset brought, 
World-seen, are gladdening all the vales 
And mountain-peaks of thought. 

" Art builds on sand ; the works of pride 
And human passion change and fall, 
Eut that which shares the life of God 
With him surviveth all." 



424 Young Folks History of Boston. 

The localities that have furnished the most frequent sub- 
jects for Whittier's pen, and that have helped form the frame- 
work, texture, and coloring of nearly all that he has written, 
are the old towns of East Haverhill, Newbury, Newburyport, 
Gloucester, the thriving town of Amesbury, the river Merri- 
mack, and the fine Atlantic beaches from Cape Ann to Mar- 
blehead. 

In the first of these places, East Haverhill, the poet was 
born, in 1808. He is a descendant of a Quaker family, who 
early settled upon the banks of the Merrimack, and whose 
members, from early colonial times, have had a local reputa- 
tion for piety, good sense, and hospitality. In the perilous 
times of the Indian war the Whittier family refused to accept 
the offer of armed protection, though their house was near a 
garrison, but trusted to the effects of their honor and kind 
and just dealing with the savages, and were unmolested. 
Whittier's father, as described in " Snow-Bound," was " a 
prompt, decisive man." But his energy of character was 
quite equalled by his benevolence ; for he was always chari- 
table to others' failings, and good to the poor. His mother 
was a patient, loving woman, with a heart to feel for every 
one, always contented and happy in the affection of her chil- 
dren. 

The family library consisted of few books, chiefly of a reli- 
gious character, and among these "The Pilgrim's Progress" 
seems to have been the favorite of John's early years. The 
district school was not favorable to large literary acquire- 
ments, being kept by an odd genius, who was sometimes 
more fond of his toddy than his pupils, and who at these 
intervals used to have sharp words with his wife, who tended 
her baby in an adjoining room. The school-room and the 
queer old pedagogue are described in some lines " To my 
Old Schoolmaster," with much tenderness of feeling and an 
evasive deliciousness of humor that makes the smile tremble 
on the reader's lips : — 



Associations of Whittiers Poetry, 427 

"Through the cracked and crazy wall 
Came the cradle-rock and squall, 
And the goodman's voice at strife 
With his shrill and tipsy wife, 
Luring us by stories old, 
With a comic unction told, 
More than by the eloquence 
Of terse birchen arguments." 

The picture of Whittier's early home, which was as hospitable 
as that which wandering Oliver Goldsmith so much loved to 
remember, is familiar to all the readers of " Snow-Bound." 
The very barn is as a familiar place, and all the members 
of the old family are acquaintances. The reader remembers 
the kind-hearted uncle, " innocent of books," — 

' ' A simple, guileless, child-like man, 
Content to live where life began." 

the sweet-faced " elder sister," — 

" How many a poor one's blessing went 
With thee beneath the low green tent 
Whose curtain never outward swings." 

and even poor crazy Harriet Livermore, whose visits were the 
one terror to the children of the house. 

Whittier speaks with great tenderness of the insanity of this 
last-named religious enthusiast : — 



•& 1 



" Whate'er her troubled path may be, 
The Lord's sweet pity with her go ! 
The outward wayward life we see, 

The hidden springs we may not know. 
Nor is it given us to discern 
What threads the fatal sisters spun, 
Through what ancestral years has run 
The sorrow with the woman born ; 
What forged her cruel chain of moods, 
What set her feet in solitudes." 



428 Young Folks History of Boston. 

She was a woman of wonderful genius, and with a kindling 
fancy that startled those around her ; but she was harsh and 
cruel in her darker moods, and sometimes inflicted personal 
violence on the children, to whom she was an object of awe. 
She expected to see the coming of the Lord with her own 
eyes, and, in this confidence, set out for Jerusalem. 

"Through Smyrna's plague-hushed thoroughfares, 
Up sea-set Malta's rocky stairs, 
Gray olive slopes of hills that hem 
Thy tombs and shrines, Jerusalem, 
Her tireless feet have held their way ; 
And still unrestful, bowed and gray, 
She watches under Eastern skies, 

With hope each day renewed and fresh, 

The Lord's quick coming in the flesh, 
Whereof she dreams and prophesies." 

It was in Haverhill that Whittier, in boyhood, wrote his 
first poems. He was, at the time, an almost unlettered and 
a very hard-working farmer's boy, upon whom the cares and 
responsibilities incident to New England farm-life had come 
early, and who had little home-sympathy in fostering a poetic 
taste. He sent one of these early rhymes, with much timid- 
ity, to William Lloyd Garrison, then an obscure editor of a 
free-speech paper, published in Newburyport. 

It met with a more favorable reception than one of Long- 
fellow's early efforts, which was returned with the gratuitous 
advice to the author, " to buckle down to the law." Mr. 
Garrison, on going into the office one day, found the poem 
under the door. It was written on coarse paper and in blue 
ink, and, thinking it was doggerel, he was about to throw it 
into the waste-basket, when some good angel of conscience 
stayed his hand, and he gave it a reading. In the poem he 
discovered a poet. Other poems arrived from the same 
source, and he at last inquired of the postman from what 



Associations of Whittier's Poetry. 429 

quarter these manuscripts came. The postman believed that 
they came from a farmer's boy in East Haverhill. " I will 
ride over and see him," said Garrison \ and he made good 
the generous resolution. He found the young poet at work 
with his father on the old place. It was the first meeting of 
the two philanthropists, who were to become so famous in 
the antislavery contest, and wield so strong an influence in 
the world. 

Young Whittier acknowledged to Garrison the authorship 
of the poems. The confession may have been hardly pleas- 
ing to Whittier's father, who, adhering to plain Quaker prin- 
ciples, did not look upon poetry as a very useful or promising 
vocation. Garrison urged the duty of sending a boy of such 
genius to school; but though the Quaker farmer did not 
seem convinced, John was soon after sent to the academy. 

Whittier taught school for a time, and the district trustee 
thought him "a good tutorer." He came to Boston as an 
editor in 1829 ; went to Hartford, in 1830, to take charge of 
the New England Weekly; and afterward returned to 
Haverhill, to engage in agricultural pursuits. In 1835 he 
was elected to the Massachusetts Legislature, and afterward 
went to Philadelphia as an editor of the Freeman. These 
experiences are hardly brought into public notice in his 
poems. His Indian legends, recounting the old tales he had 
heard at Haverhill, were only passably successful ; his poetic 
genius was of slow growth, and its recognition was slow. 

But his opportunity came at last. The antislavery conflict 
furnished him a subject that kindled the lyric fire in his soul. 
His stirring odes, written at this period, which embraced the 
latter part of the brief portion of his life devoted to editing 
and politics, are everywhere known, and, as they are not 
directly connected with our subject, we pass their history. 

Whittier's love of retirement led him to the Merrimack 
again. He settled at Amesbury, where his purely literary life 



430 Young Folks History of Boston. 

may be said to have begun. Here he wrote " The Chapel 
of the Hermits/' "Snow-Bound," "The Tent on the Beach," 
" In War Time," " Among the Hills," and nearly all of the 
domestic ballads which have become household words. 

His home is a simple cottage, near the skirts of the town, 
plain without, but with an air of hospitable comfort within. 
Near it, on the borders of a tangled grove,, is the little 
Quaker church, looking like an old-fashioned country school- 
house, standing, as it does, " at the parting of the ways." 
Here, on Thursdays and Sundays, the poet used to resort, 
with a few descendants of the old Quaker families, for silent 
worship. Many of his devout meditations here have doubt- 
less proved the germs of those religious poems which have 
gone forth with their messages of love and peace to the 
world. 

" We rose, and slowly homeward turned, 
While down the west the sunset burned ; 
And, in its light, hill, wood, and tide, 
And human forms seemed glorified. 

"The village homes transfigured stood, 
The purple bluffs, whose belting wood 
Across the waters leaned to hold 
The yellow leaves like lamps of gold. 

"Then spake my friend : ' Thy words are true : 
Forever old, forever new, 
These home-seen splendors are the same 
Which over Eden's sunsets came. 

His house, on his retirement, was in charge of his sister, 
Elizabeth H. Whittier, a woman richly endowed in mind, 
with a sweet face and disposition, a pure, loving heart, and 
an ever conscientious life. The love of the two for each 
other was like that of Wordsworth for his sister, or of Charles 



Associations of Whittiers Poetry. 431 

and Mary Lamb. He speaks of this sweet fountain of affec- 
tion again and again in his poems, and pays a most touching 
tribute to her memory in " Snow-Bound. " She herself was 
a poet, and he was accustomed to read to her the first copy 
of what he wrote. He has gathered into " Hazel Blossoms " 
several of her best poems with his own. " Since she died," 
he once remarked to a friend, " I cannot tell whether what 
I have written is good for anything or not." 

The years immediately following the establishment of the 
Whittiers at their home in Amesbury are among the most 
fruitful in the poet's history. There was a quiet beauty about 
their home whose charm was its simplicity. The poet had a 
delightful garden ; little animals and pets were ever around 
him : a bantam now had the freedom of the kitchen, and 
now a gray parrot talked with him, very profoundly, from the 
back of his chair. 

Eminent people shared the plain hospitality of the sunny 
rooms. Joseph Sturge found a welcome here. Sturge, like 
Whittier, was a descendant of a noted line of the gray 
fathers. Like Whittier, he was born in a rural town, reared 
in rustic simplicity, and entered con amove into the struggle 
against slavery. He came to this country full of antislavery 
zeal, and each heart — the poet's and the philanthropist's — 
knew its mate. After the death of Sturge's wife and child, 
his sister cared for his home. Both Whittier and his sister 
made his visit the occasion for verse-writing. When the 
sister of the reformer died, Whittier wrote to him : — 

" Thine is a grief the depth of which another 
May never know ; 
Yet, o'er the waters, O my stricken brother ! 
To thee I go. 

" I lean my heart unto thee, sadly folding 
Thy hand in mine ; 
With even the weakness of my soul upholding 
The strength of thine." 



432 Young Folks' History of Boston. 

The death of Sturge strongly affected the poet, and was 
made the occasion of the finest lines that, perhaps, he has 
ever written, beginning : — 

" In the fair land o'erwatched by Ischia's mountains, 
Across the charmed bay, 
Whose blue waves keep with Capri's silver fountains, 
Perpetual holiday, 

A king lies dead," &c. 

We have spoken of two of the towns in old Essex most 
intimately associated with his poetry, — East Haverhill, the 
scene of "Snow-Bound;" and Amesbury, the scene of his 
home ballads, and the place in which most of the poems 
having political reference were written. His muse, with all 
of its limitations, has a somewhat wider local range. The 
Merrimack, on which he was born, and from which he has 
never long wandered, may be considered as his "river of 
song : " — 

"We know the world is rich in streams 

Renowned in song and story, 
Whose music murmurs through our dreams 

Of human love and glory : 
We know that Arno's banks are fair, 

And Rhine has castled shadows, 
And, poet-tuned, the Doon and Ayr 

Go singing down their meadows. 

"But while, unpictured and unsung 

By painter or by poet, 
Our river waits the tuneful tongue 

And cunning hand to show it, — 
We only know the fond skies lean 

Above it, warm with blessing, 
And the sweet soul of our Undine 

Awakes to our caressing." 




AN OLD-TIME HUSKING FROLIC. 



Associations of Whit tiers Poetry. 435 

The old towns of Newbury and Newburyport also share 
the immortality of his verse. The traveller who visits the 
tomb of Whitefield in the Federal Street Church, in New- 
buryport, will vividly call to mind the lines entitled "The 
Preacher." 

"Under the church of Federal Street, 
Under the tread of its Sabbath feet, 
Walled about by its basement stones, 
Lie the marvellous preacher's bones. 

"Long shall the traveller strain his eye 
From the railroad car as it plunges by, 
And the vanishing town behind him search 
For the slender spire of the Whitefield Church." 

Gloucester, with its fantastic ghost lore, against whose gar- 
rison the spirits of the air, in old colonial days, were sup- 
posed to wage a warfare ; Marblehead, with old-time dialect, 
more strange when listened to than when seen in print, in 
the refrain of " Skipper Ireson's Ride ; " the curving beaches 
that sweep away from the mouth of the Merrimack, on which 
the poet once pitched his summer tent with Fields, the poet 
and the second Atlantic editor, who could decline a MS. so 
neatly that 

"Bards, whose name is legion, if denied, 
Bore off alike intact their verses and their pride ; " 

and with Bayard Taylor, who, 

" In idling mood, had from him hurled 
The poor squeezed orange of the world," — 

all have a place in the poet's local panorama. The " Songs 
of Labor," especially "The Shoemakers," "The Drovers," 
"The Huskers," and " The Fishermen," are all home scenes, 
as faithfully pictured as they are familiar to the dwellers in 
"old Essex." 



" How beautiful it was, that one bright day 
In the long week of rain ! 
Though all its splendor could not chase away 
The omnipresent pain. 

" The lovely town was white with apple-blooms, 
And the great elms o'erhead 
Dark shadows wove on their aerial looms 
Shot through with golden thread. 

" Across the meadows, by the gray old manse, 
The historic river flowed : 
I was as one who wanders in a trance, 
Unconscious of his road. 

" The faces of familiar friends seemed strange : 
Their voices I could hear, 
And yet the words they uttered seemed to change 
Their meaning to my ear. 

** For the one face I looked for was not there, 
The one low voice was mute ; 
Only an unseen presence filled the air, 
And baffled my pursuit. 

" Now I look back, and meadow, manse, and stream 
Dimly my thought defines ; 
I only see — a dream within a dream — 
The hill-top hearsed with pines. 

Ci I only hear above his place of rest 
Their tender undertone, 
The infinite longings of a troubled breast, 
The voice so like his own. 

" There in seclusion and remote from men 
The wizard hand lies cold, 
Which at its topmost speed let fall the pen, 
And left the tale half told. 

" Ah ! who shall lift that wand of magic power, 
And the lost clew regain ? 
The unfinished window in Aladdin's tower 
Unfinished must remain ! " 

Longfellow. 



CHAPTER XXIII. 

THE CONCORD AUTHORS AND THE ASSOCIATIONS 
OF THEIR WORKS. 



Lake Walden, cool 
and delicious, and full 
of summer splendor ! 
the memory of it haunts 
one in midwinter days 
like a dream. It is 
indeed little more than 
a pond ; but the circle 
of hills that surround 
it exhibit the perfec- 
tion of New England 
woods, and few lake- 
lets are always so deep, 
so clear, and so calm 
in summer-time. 

Away from this shel- 
tered sheet of water 

on every hand stretch Walden woods, the dark green needles 
of the pine contrasting with the delicate tints of the oak 
leaves. The summer winds haunt the pine tops, as Thoreau's 
flute once haunted the tenantless hills. The shadowy under- 
growth is a tangled mass of flowers and ferns, full of sweet 
odors in the morning, and beautiful with a veiled, half- 
screened light during the day. The farms of Concord here 
and there penetrate these woods. It was here that Thoreau 




RALPH WALDO EMERSON. 



440 Young Folks History of Boston. 

read and wrote, and here Emerson's " Wood-Notes " were 
inspired. 

The literary period of Concord began about the year 1841, 
or soon after Emerson resigned the charge of the Second 
Church in Boston, withdrew from society, and went to the 
borders of Walden woods to live. Few young ministers ever 
ascended a more popular pulpit than that which Emerson left 
after a pastorate of two years ; he succeeded Henry Ware, Jr., 
whose life was a powerful influence. Ware had been ten 
years in training this congregation up to his own ideal of 
religious culture and devotional living. He had positive 
views and a positive faith. Emerson was more uncertain 
and speculative. 

He appeared as a literary recluse in the sleepy town of 
Concord, and finally established himself in the sleepiest part 
of the town, just on the borders of the green Walden woods. 
His house is partly hidden with dark pines. It is a lovely 
spot in summer, but it is somewhat dreary at other seasons, 
with the wind always moaning through the trees. Some of 
the trees that surround his mansion were planted by Haw^ 
thorne and Thoreau. 

" Emerson," says Alcott, his speculative neighbor, " likes 
plain people, plain ways, plain clothes ; shuns egotists ; loves 
solitude, and knows how to use it." He found the old Con- 
cord people sufficiently simple in their tastes and habits, and 
it is said that he always had a kind greeting for the farmers 
he used to meet in his philosophical walks in Walden 
woods. 

Emerson wrote a poem soon after this self-exile from Bos- 
ton, which will serve as an excellent photograph of his occu- 
pation in retirement : — 

" Good-by, proud world ! I'm going home ! 

Thou art not my friend, and I 'm not thine. 
Long through thy weary crowds I roam ; 



The Concord Authors. 441 

A river-ark on the ocean brine, 

Long I 've been tossed like the driven foam ; 

But now, proud world ! I 'm going home. 

" Good-by to Flattery's fawning face ; 
To Grandeur with his wise grimace ; 
To upstart Wealth's averted eye ; 
To supple Office, low or high ; 
To crowded halls, to court and street ; 
To frozen hearts and hasting feet ; 
To those who go and those who come ; 
Good-by, proud world ! I 'm going home. 

" I 'm going to my own hearth-stone, 
Bosomed in yon green hills alone, — 
A secret nook in a pleasant land, 
Whose groves the frolic fairies planned ; 
Where arches green, the livelong day, 
Echo the blackbird's roundelay, 
And vulgar feet have never trod, — 
A spot that is sacred to thought and God. 

" O, when I am safe in my sylvan home, 
I tread on the pride of Greece and Rome ; 
And when I am stretched beneath the pines, 
When the evening star so holy shines, 
I laugh at the lore and the pride of man, 
At the sophist schools, and the learned clan ; 
For what are they all, in their high conceit, 
When man in the bush with God may meet ? " 

Alcott followed Emerson's example soon, and left Boston 
society to live in the rural simplicity becoming a philosopher 
at Concord. He was a teacher in Boston. The description 
of the Plumfield school in Miss Louisa Alcott's "Little Men" 
is evidently drawn from the recollections of early days. 
Alcott was a radical antislavery man in the days of Boston's 
most stately conservatism, and when a poor colored girl ap- 
plied for admission to his school, he followed his conviction 



442 



Young Folks History of Boston. 



of duty, and admitted her. The act so worthy of his man- 
hood proved fatal to the school, and he was glad to seek the 
cool fringes of Walden woods, and found it a relief to be able 
to say, like Emerson, — 

" Good-by, proud world! I 'm going home." 

He took a roomy house near Emerson, built the fences 
around it himself, and began the life of a speculative philoso- 
pher, of the transcendental school of thought. 

Hawthorne and Chan- 
ning widened the literary 
circle of Concord lit- 
erary men, the former 
occupying the " Old 
Manse " in which Emer- 
son wrote "Nature," which 
stood removed from the 
street, and near the old 
Concord battle-ground, 
its monuments, relics, and 
graves. 

Hawthorne was retiring 
and reticent to an unusual 
degree even for a literary 
man. He found the Old 
Manse full of antique re- 
minders of a departed generation ; portraits of New England 
ministers of Cotton Mather's days, narrow windows, and sus- 
picious shadows, and the traditional accompaniment of all 
these faded things, the moonlight-haunting ghost. 

All of the old colonial mansions had their supposed 
ghosts ; but Hawthorne's ghost, like his house, was a trifle 
more sombre than the rest, wandering about, and chilling the 
spirits of the living by the rustle of its (black) silk gown. 




NATHANIEL HAWTHORNE. 



The Concord Authors. 443 

Here the Boston poets used to visit, — Longfellow, Fields, 
and the whole coterie of writers now passing one by one in 
solemn procession oif the stage of literary life. Franklin 
Pierce was a guest. He was Hawthorne's college-mate, and 
through his life his most intimate friend. 

When Franklin Pierce was elected President he offered 
Hawthorne the position of U. S. Consul at Liverpool. 




THE OLD MANSE. 

"Will the man who holds this office have to talk much? " 
asked Hawthorne of the bearer of the intelligence. 

" No," was the answer. 

"Thank the Lord," was the fervent rejoinder. His char- 
acteristic always discovered itself in the happiest as well as 
the saddest moments of life. 

Hawthorne did not die in Concord, but amid the New 
Hampshire hills. His old friend, Franklin Pierce, visited him 
in his last sickness, and was with him on the night of his 
death. 



444 



Young Folks History of Boston. 



He was buried in the most beautiful time of the year near 
the woods and streams he had loved so well. His remains were 
carried through the blooming orchards of Concord and laid 
down to an eternal rest beneath a group of pines on a hill- 
side overlooking the Concord battle-field. " All the way from 
the village church," says James T. Fields, "the birds kept up 
a perpetual melody. The sun shone brightly, and the air was 
as sweet and pleasant as though death had never entered the 
world." Longfellow was there, Lowell, Emerson, Alcott, 
Holmes, Channing, and Agassiz. Franklin Pierce was true 
to his early friend to the last, and mingled flowers with the 
earth in that hillside grave. 

We recently visited the site of Thoreau's hut in Walden 
woods. A noble cluster of pines rises on a ridge of woodland 
near it, pines that the axe has spared, that loom up like a shad- 
owy cathedral, in which the 
winds of the seasons make 
perpetual music. The pond 
or lake is below it margined 
with bushes. A simple cross 
marks the spot where the 
poet-naturalist lived, and on 
it is written, "This is the 
site of Thoreau's Hut." 

Thoreau built this hut 
with his own hands, and here 
lived more than two years. 
The birds became his com- 
panions ; the wild partridge 
displayed her brood before 
his door, and the rabbits burrowed under his house, and were 
there secure from the hound and sportsman. Even the wood- 
mice came to know him, and one of them would take food 
from his hand. It was here that his most famous essays, 




thoreau's hut. 



The Concord Authors. 445 

many of which appeared in the At/antic, were written, or 
had their origin. 

Thoreau, in his essay on " Brute Neighbors," describes 
one of the battles between the black ants and the red ants that 
took place before his door. He treats the matter in true his- 
torical style as though it was an event as great as the Norman 
Conquest, and conveys the idea that he looked upon the issue 
with as much interest as he would contemplate one of the old 
battles of human ambition. The ant-hills in Walden woods 
still remain much the same as when that remarkable essay 
was written. It seemed to me like securing an uncommonly 
choice autograph when I found them. 

In his essay on rt Economy," he tells us how he lived in 
the woods during his protracted study of nature. His house 
cost him twenty-eight dollars. He was a vegetarian, and as 
he raised his own corn, beans, and potatoes, his expenses for 
food amounted to about one dollar a month. His books 
and his flute were his companions, though his literary friends 
sometimes visited him in his retreat. The Concord farmers 
used to hear the notes of his flute in the still summer evenings. 
A beautiful poem entitled "Thoreau's Flute" appeared in 
print soon after his decease. 

Thoreau was a cynic — the same iconoclast in Harvard Col- 
lege as in Walden woods. He held that habits and customs 
of social life were all unnatural and wrong ; that true indepen- 
dence of character was a lost virtue ; and that following the 
customs of the rich made slaves of the poor. The remedy for 
the ills of society was a disregard to all conventional rules j he 
himself acted on this theory ; but a world of Thoreaus would 
be a rather dreary place in which to live. 

Thoreau died of consumption. His love of nature was 
strong to the last. He loved to look out of the window in 
his sickness. He awoke one morning, frost covered the win- 
dow pane and he had not the strength to scrape it off. "I 



446 Young Folks History of Boston. 

cannot now even look out of doors," he said sadly, and the 
world from that time was as lost to him. 

The surroundings of Concord have a peculiar charm in 
summer-time, a rare harmonious blending of grassy meadows, 
dreamy marshes, noble woods of variegated green, and limpid 
streams. Emerson, Channing, and Thoreau have all pictured 
the charms of the Concord River. It is a subtile, ill-defined 
charm, and one which requires days of delicious leisure among 
these calm landscapes to appreciate. 

" Beneath low hills in the broad interval, 
Through which at will our Indian rivulet 
Winds, mindful still of sannup and of squaw, 
Whose pipe and arrow oft the plow unburies, 
Here, in pine houses built of new-fallen trees, 
Supplanters of the tribe, the farmers dwell." 

Emerson. 

" The river calmly flows 
Through shining banks, through lonely glen, 
Where the owl shrieks, though ne'er the cheer of men 

Has stirred its mute repose ; 
Still, if you should walk there, you would go there again." 

Channing 

" I sailed up a river with a pleasant wind, 
New lands, new people, and new thoughts to find. 
Many fair reaches and headlands appeared, 
And many dangers were there to be feared ; 

" But when I remember where I have been, 
And the fair landscapes that I have seen, 
Thou seemest the only permanent shore, 
The cape never rounded nor wandered o'er." 

Thoreau. 

The poetry of Thoreau is evasive and peculiar. " His 
poetry," says Emerson, " might be bad or good ; he no doubt 



The Concord Authors. 447 

wanted a lyric faculty and technical skill, but he had no 
source of poetry in his spiritual perception." There is a 
pleasure in getting at the quaint meanings of many of his 
rhymes : — 

" If, with fancy unfurled, 
You leave your abode, 
You may go round the tvorld 
By the old Alarlborough road. 

" The respectable folks — 
Where dwell they 1 
They whisper in the oaks, 
- And they sigh in the hay." 

Some of his lines are as mysterious as Emerson's " Brahma " 
was to the country editor, who failing to find any meaning in 
it after reading it in the usual way, began at the last line and 
read it backwards, and thought he received light. 1 



1 BRAHMA. 

If the red slayer thinks he slays, 
Or if the slain think he be slain, 

They know not well the subtile ways 
I keep and pass and turn again. 

Far or forgot to me is near, 

Shadow and sunlight are the same, 

The vanished gods to me appear, 
And one to me are shame and fame. 

They reckon ill who leave me out, 
When me they fly I am the wings, 

I am the doubter and the doubt, 

And I the hymn the Brahman sings. 

The strong gods pine for my abode, 
And pine in vain the sacred seven ; 

But thou, meek lover of the good. 

Find me, and turn thy back on heaven. 



448 Young Folks History of Boston. 

For example : — 

" Give me an angel for a foe, 
Fix now the place and time, 
And straight to meet him I will go, 
Above the starry chime. 

" And with our clashing bucklers' clang 
The heavenly spheres shall ring, 
While bright the northern lights shall hang 
Beside our tourneying." 

The solitude of Thoreau's life gave him a strong sense of 
his own personality : — 

" My life is like a stroll upon the beach 
As near the ocean's edge as I can go ; 
My tardy steps its waves sometimes o'erreach ; 
Sometimes I stay, and let them overflow. 

" My sole employment 't is, and scrupulous care, 
To place my gains beyond the reach of tides, — 
Each smoother pebble, and each shell more rare, 
Which ocean kindly to my hand confides.'' 

One by one the old Concord poets and romancers have 
departed, as Thoreau saw Walden woods falling around him 
before he died. The axe was ever busy in his forests, and 
death has been as busy among his friends. " Thank God they 
cannot cut down the sky," he once said, as he heard of the 
wood-choppers' work. The skies remain, and trees sprout 
again, while even genius proves a wandering and uncertain 
light, and fades and disappears. 

The Concord writers have been proverbially unsocial, but 
there appeared among them in the best days of their literary 
efforts a new Corinne, who more than any other American 
woman distinguished herself for her social charms. We 
refer to Margaret Fuller, Countess Ossoli, who had met 



The Concord Authors. 



449 




nearly all the Concord philosophers and poets at Brook 

Farm, where she had enchanted other dreamers with the 

peculiar brilliancy of her 

own dreams. " When 

she came to Concord/' 

says Emerson, " she was 

already rich with friends, 

rich in experience, rich 

in culture. She was well 

read in French, Italian, 

and German literature." 

She entered the cold 

intellectual atmosphere 

of Concord like a nun, 

and. she came and went 

like a social queen. She 

11 r i r MARGARET FULLER (COUNTESS OSSOLI ). 

had a nature formed for 

friendship, and absorbed the feelings and affections of others, 
and influenced them by an intense personality that it was 
almost impossible to resist. Emerson says that she wore her 
circle of friends like a diamond necklace. " They were so 
much to each other that Margaret seemed to represent them 
all. She was everywhere a welcome guest. The houses of her 
friends in town and country were all open to her. Her 
arrival was a holiday." 

"I knew her ten years," says Emerson (1836-1846), 
" and never without surprise at her new powers." She be- 
came an intimate friend of Mrs. Emerson : she flitted like a 
sunbeam among the shadows of the Old Manse after Haw- 
thorne came to occupy it, and was a frequent guest at Chan- 
ning's. "The Concord stage coachman," says Emerson, 
" distinguished her by his respect, and the chambermaid was 
pretty sure to confide in her on the second day her homely 
romance." 

29 



45 o Young Folks History of Boston. 

Concord River and Walden woods were a delight to her 
at this most happy period of her life. She was a lover of 
nature as well as of art and sentiment ; and these variegated 
woods, hills, and calm waters were among the teachers that 
formed her tastes, and enriched her mind and character. 

We have spoken of the last scenes of the life of Hawthorne 
and of Thoreau. The going-out of life of few people has been 
so sad and tragic as that of this brilliant woman, whose tall 
monument rises over a tenantless grave on one of the hill- 
slopes in Mount Auburn. 

It was an Italian spring. The Apennines had put their 
mantles of snow aside, and fruit was swelling among the 
blossoms on the Arno. "The Italian spring," said Madame 
Ossoli, " is a paradise. Every old wall and ruin puts on a 
festoon or garland, and the heavens stoop daily nearer, till 
the earth is folded in an embrace of light." 

But her heart amid these scenes turned homeward, and 
she resolved to return with her child. Her husband, Count 
Ossoli, was to accompany her. Her last days in Italy were 
very happy, and yet the joy was tinged with sadness, as of a 
shadow of some unseen fate into which life was entering. 
"The world is indeed a sad place," she said, "despite its 
sunshine, buds, and crocuses. But I never felt as happy as 
now, when I always find the glad eyes of my little boy to 
greet me. I find the tie between him and me so deep-rooted 
that nothing but death can part us. Nothing but a child can 
take the worst bitterness out of life." 

She sailed from Italy at this happy period of her life, and 
the rest is well known. The ship was wrecked in sight of 
the American shore. The wreck was twelve hours in break- 
ing up, rocking on the reef off Long Island, the high wind 
rushing over it and the huge waves dashing around it. For 
twelve hours, in her night-robes and with dishevelled hair, 
this gifted woman, to whom the shores already in sight prom- 



The Concord Authors. 451 

ised so much if she could but reach them, sat face to face 
with death. They offered to attempt to rescue her, but in 
a way that would separate her from her husband and child. 
She refused each offer for aid that involved a separation. 
She would be saved with them, or would perish with them. 
At length a tremendous wave shattered the wreck, and the 
brave woman perished with her husband and child, true to the 
last to her family as she had ever been true to her friends. 

Old Wright's Tavern, a quaint relic of Revolutionary days, 
where Pitcairn, just before the Concord fight, stirred his 

brandy, declaring " I hope to stir the Yankee blood so 

before night ! " stands on the Walden side of Concord, not 
far from Emerson's, and is a link between a generation gone 
and the generation now passing away. Thoreau's birthplace 
is seen on the old Virginia road, and the Old Manse retains 
its quaintness, and strangers run out from Boston to visit it 
on delicious summer days, and there dream over the old 
dreams of the vanished novelist, romancer, and enchanter. 

But the literary summer of Concord has passed, and the 
song birds have fled before the dropping leaves, and the 
association of Concord River and Walden woods will ere 
long be a romance. Emerson alone survives these mysterious 
singers of other days, though Alcott still talks the poetry he 
does not write. 

When Emerson shall have followed on in this procession 
of vanishing lights, Concord, it would seem, will be a place of 
literary memories, like the English lake district of Cumberland 
and Westmoreland when Wordsworth was gathered to the 
poets in Grasmere church-yard, and the rapid Rotha was 
left to sing the poets instead of being sung by the poets on 
its shaded banks. But though the singers may be gone, the 
poetry of nature will long linger on the quiet banks of the 
Concord, and amid the breeze-haunted, blossom-haunted 
shadows of Walden woods. 



" The air is full of farewells to the dying, 
And mournings for the dead ; 
The heart of Rachel, for her children crying, 
Will not be comforted ! 

" Let us be patient ! These severe afflictions 
Not from the ground arise, 
But oftentimes celestial benedictions 
Assume this dark disguise. 

" We see but dimly through the mists and vapors; 
Amid these earthly damps 
What seem to us but sad, funereal tapers 
May be heaven's distant lamps. 

"■ There is no Death ! What seems -so is transition ; 
This life of mortal breath 
Is but a suburb of the life elysian, 
Whose portal we call Death." 

Longfellow. 



CHAPTER XXIV. 

MOUNT AUBURN. 

On the 24th of September, 1831, a large concourse of 
people assembled in a deep, picturesque valley, near the 
Charles River, in Old Cambridge, to consecrate a rural cem- 
etery. The leaves were just beginning to change ; the sky 
was unclouded, and the cool air, purified by the showers on 
the preceding night, seemed a broad mirror of sunlight, here 
and there rimmed with vermilion hills and golden woods. 
Out of the valley or deep glen like a finger of faith rose 
Mount Auburn, jewelled with autumn fringes. 

The literary men of a generation gone were there. Henry 
Ware, Jr., John Pierpont, and Charles Sprague, at that time 
the poetic lights of Boston, all contributed to the exercises. 
Mr. Pierpont's grand original hymn was taken up by a 
thousand voices and was echoed among the hills on the 
mellow, breezeless air : — 

" Decay ! decay ! 't is stamped on all ; 

All bloom in flower and flesh shall fade ; 
Ye whispering trees, when ye shall fall, 
Be our long sleep beneath your shade ! 

' ' Here to thy bosom, Mother Earth, 

Take back in peace what thou hast given, 
And all that is of heavenly birth, 
O God, in peace recall to heaven." 

A half century has passed away since that bright, calm 
September day, when first were thrown open these tranquil 



456 



Young Folks History of Boston. 



streets and shaded avenues of Boston's city of the dead. 
One by one the scholars, jurists, artists, and philanthropists, 
who gathered there, have returned again to share the un- 
broken companionship of the tomb. As the visitor threads 
the winding ways of the hill and dale he is everywhere re- 
minded of the literary and philanthropic lights of the past, 
and is made to feel how early falls the twilight and the 
evening of fame. Here rest Bowditch, Binney, Apple ton, 
Thayer, Ashmun, Whiting, Buckingham, Story, and Lawrence, 




OSSOLI MEMORIAL. 



and a long generation of scholars and benefactors, whose 
names we have not even the space to recall. Here sleeps 
Hannah Adams, a once famous historical writer, and Frances 
Osgood, an admired poetess in her day, whose monument is 
a broken harp. Here is seen the elaborate monument of 
Margaret Fuller (Countess Ossoli), — " By birth, a child of 
New England ; by adoption, a citizen of Rome ; by genius, 
belonging to the world." 



Gaspard Spursheim. 



459 



We enter the enclosure through a broad granite gateway, the 
design of which was taken from an ancient Egyptian temple. 
The scene which meets the eye in summer time has few 
equals in quiet loveliness and harmony of beauty in New 
England. An immense parterre, some 130 acres in extent, 
now shadowy with trees, now silvery with jetty fountains, 
comes into view, and makes one feel that this is affection's 
holy ground. 

As we pass up Central Avenue, which is margined with 
beds of rare flowers and works of art, we first come to the 
monument of 

GASPARD SPURZHEIM, 

whose name is associated with Gall in the early discoveries in 
phrenological science. He came to this country from Prussia 
to lecture, but died soon after his arrival in Boston in 1832. 




SPURZHEIM MONUMENT. 



His body was given to science, and his heart and brain may 
still be seen in Dr. Warren's collections of specimens of 
anatomy. His remains were among the first interred in the 
cemetery. 



460 Young Folks History of Boston. 

Turning to the left into Chapel Avenue, the steps of the 
visitor are next arrested by the celebrated bronze statue of 



DR. NATHANIEL BOWDITCH, 

the first full-length bronze statue ever cast in this country. 

We never pass this monument without recalling an inci- 
dent that furnishes a healthy and helpful lesson to the young. 
Dr. Bowditch was remarkable for his simplicity and moral 




BRONZE STATUE OF DR. NATHANIEL BOWDITCH. 

energy of character, and he rose in science mainly by his 
own efforts. Once in youth, being very fond of music, he 
made the acquaintance of some music-loving fellows of the 



Dr. Nathaniel Bowditch. 461 

aimless and profitless sort, but full of warm, friendly feeling, 
and he found their society so pleasing that he seemed likely 
to follow their unthrifty habits. 

At length the conduct of some of his companions showed 
the real danger of his position. He resolved to abandon his 
new friends at once. " What am I doing? " he said. " For- 
getting my studies in order to be with those whose only 




THE CHAPEL. 



recommendation is that they love music. I shall fall into 
their habits if I continue. I will do so no longer." It was 
a turning point in life. His abandoned fiddle was always 
kept, and is still owned by one of his family. 

His last days were serene and happy, and were passed in 
the companionship of books and children. Looking back 
on a well-employed youth, he once said, " Every morning 
when I awoke and saw the sun I thanked God that he had 
placed me in this beautiful world." 



462 Young Folks History of Boston. 

Passing the grave of Dr. Daniel Sharp, of blessed memory, 
we come to the Lawrence monument, one of the most lofty 
and beautiful in the grounds. The name of 



AMOS LAWRENCE, 

like that of Bowditch, has its lessons. He was a poor boy, 
but had the strong moral purpose that compels success. " I 
spent my first Sunday in the city at church," he once said. 



viiglllBlBiig,, 




THE STORY STATUE. 



" I determined to begin life just right." Out of that church, 
which he entered a poor country lad, he was carried at last 
amid the tears of the city and brought here to fill a bene- 
factor's grave. 



The Sphinx. 463 

We now come to the chapel, which contains the fine 
statues of Joseph Story, John Winthrop, John Adams, and 
James Otis. It is lighted by a beautiful oriel window in 
front, where cherubs brighten in the sunlight and lose half 
their beauty in the shadow. It is always open to visitors. 

Near the chapel has recently been erected one of the 
most beautiful works of art in Boston's cemeteries, an 
Egyptian monumental statue of colossal size, called 



THE SPHINX. 

It is designed to commemorate the conservation of the 
American Republic, the destruction of Slavery, and the 
heroes who fell in the Union war. It was cut from a single 
block of granite. It was executed by Martin Milmore, who 
designed the Soldiers' Monument in Boston, as well as the 
famous bust of Sumner, and many local works of art. 

We might branch off from the central route to the tower, 
and visit the monuments of Lucius Bolles, of saintly memory ; 
of Ballou, who had many virtues and many friends ; or Cleve- 
land of Revolutionary fame. But proceeding to the hill and 
tower we pass the plain tomb of Rufus Choate, standing like 
a rock on the steep hillside, buried in cool shadows. At a 
little distance from the way, in a lot margined with evergreen, 
is the grave of " Fanny Fern." It is marked by a beautiful 
cross surrounded with delicately wrought fern leaves in pure 
marble. Her father, Deacon Nathaniel Willis, and her 
brother, N. P. Willis, the poet, sleep in another part of the 
cemetery. 

We now come to the base of Mount Auburn, and in its 
circle repose the remains of Charles Sumner, Louis Agassiz, 
Edward Everett, and Noah Webster, the lexicographer. In 
fact, the whole base is circled with places that strangers love 
to visit, from the associations of bright and precious mem- 



464 Young Folks History of Boston. 

ories, and no spot is now so much inquired after as the grave 
of 

CHARLES SUMNER. 

It is on Arethusa Path, near Walnut Avenue, at the foot of 
the tower. The lot has no fence, no margin of flowers or 
evergreens, and no memorial stones, except a row of small 
slabs of white marble, just rising out of the ground, and bear- 
ing the names and dates of the Sumner family who are 
buried there. A tall gnarled oak stretches one broad arm 
above it, which we always associate with one of the last 
remarks of the statesman. " A great man," said Mr. Sumner, 
at a last interview with a friend, " when under the shadow of 
defeat, is taught the uses of adversity, and as the oak-tree's 
roots are strengthened by its shadow, so all defeats in a good 
cause are but resting-places on the road to victory at last." 

We well remember the mild March day when at sunset, 
amid the tolling bells of all the surrounding towns, the great 
funeral procession wound along the avenues, and, to the 
music of trombones, and to the singing of Luther's majestic 
choral, his body was lowered into a grave of flowers. The 
terraced hillside was full of people. Tears flowed on all 
cheeks, and the mourning was sincere. Flowers from South- 
ern soil were piled upon the coffin ; in the gathering shadows 
the sexton did his work, and an immense cross of calla lilies 
was set at the head of the new-made grave. That grave has 
never wanted for floral tributes. Though the humblest it is 
the most often visited grave of all. 

The grave of 

LOUIS AGASSIZ 

is in the long procession of illustrious sleepers that encircles 
the dells below the tower. A red stone cross, mantled with 
vines, stands in the centre of the lot, a fit emblem of the 



Louis Agassiz. 467 

great naturalist's faith. The monument of Agassiz is striking 
for its appropriateness and simplicity. It is a granite boulder 




LOUIS AGASSIZ. 



rising as though naturally out of the grave, and bears on one 
of its sides simply 

Jean Louis Rodolphe Agassiz. 
Born at Motier, Switzerland, 
May 28th, 1807; died at Cam- 
bridge, Mass., Dec. 14, 1873. 

The funeral of Agassiz took place on a mild afternoon on 
the 1 8th of December, — a day out of season, as mellow 



468 



Young Folks History of Boston. 



as the changing days of winter to spring, or September to 
the coolness of fall. Like his great teacher, Cuvier, he had 
requested that he might be buried in the most simple pos- 
sible manner. The request was in the main regarded, but 
his friends resolved to bury him in flowers. The coffin, over 




THE AGASSIZ BOULDER. 



which Cherubini's sweet requiem was sung in the college 
chapel, seemed an immense floral offering ; the lot where 
the grave was made was carpeted with evergreen ; the earth 
thrown up by the sexton was hidden by ivy, . japonicas, 
azalias, carnations ; the grave itself was wholly lined with 



Pierpont. 469 

green boughs and creamy flowers, and the stone cross held 
aloft in the wintry silence the greenest of ivy and the whitest 
of blooms. 

The scene was in harmony with the great naturalist's 
character, — the cross, the floral offerings. Flowers were to 
him God's alphabet, and the Christian world had looked to 
him as the defender of their faith against materialism. Agassiz 
never forgot the religious instruction- he had received from 
his pious parents in the Alp-walled Oberland and the beau- 
tiful Pays de Vaud. "These are the thoughts of God," he 
once said of mountains. Nature to him was God's thoughts 
in the past. 

At the foot of the tower, on a green slope overlooking the 
Charles River and " Roxbury " fields, rises a plain monu- 
ment, on one side of which is inscribed, — 

POET. 

PATRIOT. 

PREACHER. 

PHILOSOPHER. 

PHILANTHROPIST. 

PIERPONT. 

It marks the resting-place of the venerable author of 
" The Airs of Palestine," " Napoleon at Rest," "The Pilgrim 
Fathers," and " Passing Away." Hollis Street Church, where 
he preached for many years, is seen in the far distance from 
the beautiful spot. 

Pierpont in selecting the lot wrote a poem entitled " My 
Grave," in which he thus pictures the resting-place : — 

"My grave.! I 've marked thee on the sunny slope, 
The warm dry slope of Auburn's wood-crowned hill, 
That overlooks the Charles and Roxbury's fields, 
That lie beyond it, as lay Canaan's green 
And smiling landscape beyond Jordan's flood, 
As seen by Moses. 



470 Young Folks History of Boston. 

Standing by thy side 
I see the distant city's domes and spires. 
There stands the church within whose lofty walls 
My voice for truth and righteousness and God — 
But all too feebly — has been lifted up 
For more than twenty years, but now shall soon 
Be lifted up no more." 

The monument of Anson Burlingame may be seen near 
the fountain at the foot of the hill, — a beautiful marble 
block, covered on the top by an immense bundle of wheat, — 
a not inappropriate emblem of a fruitful life. 




THE TOWER 



Ascending the stone tower, which rises some sixty feet 
from the top of Mount Auburn, we obtain an extended view 



Forest Hills Cemetery. 



471 



of the environs of Boston, — a scene of enchantment on a 
clear day in summer or early fall. Below lies the city of the 
dead ; just beyond is Elmwood, the residence of James Rus- 
sell Lowell, with its green acres of grand old trees 5 on one 
side runs the placid Charles, like a picture of beauty ; on the 
other are hills, woods, 
spires, and towns, and 
white lines of houses, 
like outstretched arms 
joining one town to 
another; while in the 
distance rise the three 
hills and the brick city 
of Boston, the gilded 
dome of the State 
House glimmering in 
the sun. 

Among the new 
graves that the visitor 
should see are those of 

Charlotte Cushman and James T. Fields. The former, which 
is near the tower, is marked by a noble monolith. 

The stranger, on leaving the enclosure, may like to visit 
the grave of Jared Sparks, which is on Garden Avenue near 
the bell and the well-house. It is among the last objects 
usually visited, from its nearness to the gate. Passing out of 
the enclosure, " Auburn, Sweet Auburn " fades like a vision, 
but no one can fully understand or appreciate the Christian 
culture of Boston until he has exchanged the scenes of her 
activities for a thoughtful walk in the city of the dead. 




JARED SPARKS. 



FOREST HILLS CEMETERY. 

As beautiful as Mount Auburn, though not as historic, is 
Forest Hills." The entrance to this blooming park that 



472 Young Folks History of Boston. 

hides the dead is through a gateway which is most elegant 
and impressive. In golden letters on the arch above it are 
the words : " I am the Resurrection and the Life." As one 
passes the gate he seems in a vast garden of flowers and 
statuary. Here are pleasant sheets of water, rocky emi- 
nences, cool clusters of trees. General Joseph Warren, who 
fell at Bunker Hill, is buried here, on the summit of a hill 
called Mount Warren. The receiving tomb here is the 
largest, or one of the largest, in the country. Its portico is 
massive and imposing. Within are two hundred and eight 
catacombs. 

At one side of this cemetery is the Strangers' Burying- 
Ground, or ground of single graves, called the Field of 
Manoah. 

And here, at the Strangers' Burying- Ground, we will take 
leave of the reader, who has followed us in these pages 
through the events of two hundred and fifty years. 



THE FIELD OF MANOAH. 

I see afar the sun's red lustres, burning 

On skeletons of woods, 
And hear the lone bird haplessly returning 

To wintry solitudes. 

Around me stand white monuments in clusters, 

An open space before, 
Whose tombs reflect few monumental lustres, — 

The sad Field of Manoah. 1 

It is the field in which the stranger slumbers, 

Where ferns untrod are found ; 
Yet many a grave, without a history, numbers 

That unfrequented ground. 

1 Judges xvi. 31. "Manoah" — rest. 



The Field of Mauoah. 473 

Amid the graves one lone shaft there arises — 

I seek the spot alone — 
A name, familiar, memory surprises 

Upon the tapering stone. 

'T is Owen Marlowe. This is all the history 

That on the shaft appears ; 
All else is vanished into endless mystery 

And unfamiliar years, — 

Save that his genius many throngs delighted, 

And won its meed of fame, 
And love his kindly sympathies requited, 

And chiselled here his name. 

A few brief years he spoke to throngs applauding 

Before the footlights' blaze, 
And read as long the chronicles recording 

His triumphs and his praise. 

And, far from scenes where life's young dream had perished, 

And happy days had flown, 
And from the kindred that his heart had cherished, 

He died, and died alone. 

And here he sleeps, where balmy June's returning 

Touches with green his bed, 
And bright years pass, with golden harvests burning, 

Unheeded by the dead. 

Like her whose life with long applause was sated, 

Who was the world's glad guest, 
But finds a grave in Auburn isolated, 

The actor went to rest. 

Beside this grave the other graves seem lonely ; 

Yet all these graves are lone, 
Removed from kindred, and surrounded only 

By dust of the unknown. 



474 Young Folks' History of Boston. 

Sad are the homes whose hearths are half deserted, 

Or, from the fireside's blaze 
The feet of loved ones, by the world perverted, 

Take solitary ways. 

But sadder far than partings made by trial, 

By distance or the wave, 
Is that lost hope, that remediless denial 

Of kinship in the grave. 

Yet many here their roof-tree left for others, 

Their hearth and lattice vine, 
To earn some easier life for toil-worn mothers, 

By Yarrow or the Rhine. 

And some are gathered in this spot retired, 

Where deeds are fragrant yet, 
Who in death's silent chamber, faith inspired, 

The waiting angels met ; 

Who walked alone the city's thronging highway, 

Like the celestial road, 
And sought in other lives, in mart and by-way, 

The brotherhood of God. 



Here piteous hands that duty led from pleasure 

Laid them beneath the blooms, 
But the Escurial holds no nobler treasure 

In all its golden tombs. 

Gone to the city of unshaded splendor, 

Gone from life's harvest field, 
They gave the world the best their hearts could render, 

The best that life can yield. 

The twilight near, the cool winds o'er me stealing, 

The city's spires before, 
I leave to-night, with sweet and chastened feeling, 

The lone Field of Manoah. 



INDEX. 



Adams, Samuel, 206 ; at Lexington on 
the morning of the fight, 226. 

Agassiz, Louis, grave of, 464 ; monument, 
467, 468. 

Agassiz Museum, 353. 

Alcott, A. Bronson, 441 ; in Concord, 442. 

Aldrich, T. B., 409, 410. 

Allston, Washington, his personal charac- 
ter, 304 ; intimate with Washington 
Irving, 305 ; buried by torchlight, 304; 
a story of, 339 ; poem by, 29. 

American Revolution begun, 222. 

Ancestors, our, the monuments to, 37. 

Andrew, Governor, responds to Presi- 
dent's call for troops, 317; address to 
Legislature in 1864, 318. 

Andros hated by Boston people, 146. 

Antislavery struggle, the, 309; meetings 
in Faneuil Hall, 313, 314 ; societies, 314. 

Anville's, Admiral d', fleet destroyed, 190. 

Arbella, the, why so named, 48 ; voyage 
of, 49 ; reaches Salem harbor, 50 ; in 
Boston harbor, 52. 

Argyle, Duke of, married in the Frank- 
land House, 199. 

Arlington, 353 ; Arlington Heights, 349. 

Arlington Street Church, 240. 

Arms sold to the Indians by Thomas Mor- 
ton at Merry-Mount, 67. 

"Art," poem by Charles Sprague, 387. 

Art Square and buildings near, 338. 

Aspinet, first enemy of the Pilgrims, 75 ; 
restores a lost boy, 79. 



Baltimore regiment at Bunker Hill cen- 
tennial, 335, 336. 

Bates, Joshua, founder of the Public Li- 
brary, 324. 

Beaches near Boston, 356. 

Bells of Christ Church, 239. 

" Belshazzar's Feast," Allston's, 305. 

Bjarne, son of Heriulf, voyage and discov- 
eries of, 360. 

Blackstone, William, sole inhabitant of 
Boston, 39 ; invited Winslow and his 
friends to Boston, 40 ; removed to Re- 
hoboth, 43 ; married late in life, 43. 

Blue Hills at Milton, 349. 

Boston founded by gentlemen, 31 ; growth 
0I > °5> 85 ; invested by the Provincials, 
257; assault planned, 258; bombard- 
ment of, 261 ; evacuated by the British, 
262 ; occupied by Washington, 266 ; 



becomes a city in 1822, 293 ; to-day, 
323 ; its territory and population, 323 ; 
valuation, 324 ; schools and churches, 
324; Public Library, 324 ; Public Latin 
School, 375. 

Boston Bay, 354- 

Boston Common a cow-pasture, 369. 

Boston, England, ancient name of, 16 ; 
description of, 31 ; resembles Rotter- 
dam, 31 ; proud of her daughter, 31. 

Boston massacre, 214. 

Boston News-Letter, the first newspaper 
published in America, 177. 

Boston poetry, associations of, 389. 

Boston University, 385. 

Botolph, or Botulph, derivation of the 
name, 16. See St. Botolph. 

Bowditch, Dr. Nathaniel, bronze statue 
of, 460. 

Boy, the lost, 75. 

Boys' books in 1720, 178. 

Boys of Boston and General Gage, 215. 

Bradford, Gov., lines "To Boston," 390. 

Bradstreet, Anne, the favorite poet of the 
colony, 390. 

Breakfast to officers of French fleet, 230. 

Brick houses built, 137. 

" Bridge, The," Longfellow's poem, 406. 

British army in Boston reinforced, 243. 

British open fire on Bunker Hill, 244. 

BromfLeld's Lane, 369. 

Bunker Hill fortified, 243 ; battle of, 244; 
centennial celebration of battle, 332. 

Bunker Hill Monument, corner-stone of 
laid by Lafayette, 293, 294 ; the cele- 
bration, 294 ; Ray Palmer's memories 
of the occasion, 296 ; the grounds, 302 ; 
description of the monument, 303. 

Burnet, Gov., cost of his reception, 177. 

Burns, Anthony, arrest, 314; surrender, 

3*7- 
Byles, Mather, first pastor of Hollis Street 
Church, 287 ; a tory, 287 ; guards him- 
self, 288 ; his wit, 289 ; specimen of his 
poetry, 290. 



Cambridge church-yard, 303 ; verse from 
Holmes's poem on, 305. 

Cambridge, how it had its beginning, 62. 

Cape Cod, the Keel Cape, Kialarness of 
the Northmen, 362. 

Cape Cross, or Krossanes, probably Ply- 
mouth, or Nantasket Beach, 365. 



4/6 



Young Folks History of Boston. 



Carwitham view of Boston about 1730, 

425. 
Castle Island, 354. 
"Catechise," the, 372. 
Centennial celebration of Battle of Bunker 

Hill, 332. 

Charles II. proclaimed king in Boston, 
138. 

Charles River settlements Arcadias, 43. 

Charlestown settled from Salem, 40, 62. 

Charter of Charles I. revoked, 145; a 
new one granted, 146. 

Chauncy Street Church, 393. 

Children bewitched, 116. 

Choate, Rufus, tomb of, 463. 

Christ Church, story of a visit to, 234 ; 
oldest church in Boston, 236. 

Chronicles of John of Tynemouth, ex- 
tracts from, 20. 

"Church, the, hath no place left to fly 
into but the wilderness,'' 47. 

Chimes of Christ Church, 234, 240. 

Coleridge's inkstand, 402. 

Common, the, a part of Blackstone's 
farm, 43 ; gallows on the, 103. 

Conant, Roger, one of first settlers of 
Salem, 50. 

Concord authors, 439 ; unsocial, 448. 

Concord, Provincial Congress at, 219; 
battle of, 221 ; literary period of, be- 
gan, 440. 

Coote, Richard, the second royal gover- 
nor, 174. 

Copp's Hiil Burying-ground, 234, 239. 

Copp's Hill, guns from the battery on, set 
fire to Charlestown, 239. 

Corey Hill, Brookline, 349. 

Corey, Martha, hanged as a witch, 123. 

Cotton, John, Vicar of Boston, 32 ; flight 
to New England, 35, 48; memorial 
chapel to, 36 ; the first Boston poet, 
3S9. 

Cushman, Charlotte, monument to, 471. 

Dana, Richard H., 391. 

Dante's coffin, Longfellow has a fragment 

of, 402. 
Dark day of 1780, 289. 
Deer Island used as a place of confine- 
ment for Indians, 131. 
Demons put to flight by St. Botolph, 23. 
Diaz, Mrs., on the old-time primary 

schools, 371. 
Dillaway, Charles K., master of the Latin 

School, 379. 
"Dirge of Alaric the Visigoth," written 

by Edward Everett, 391. 
Dissenters persecuted, 47 ; find a place of 

refuge, 66. 
Dixwell, Epes Sargent, master of the 

Latin School, 379. 
Dorchester, first settlers at, 62. 
"Dorchester Giant, The," Holmes's 

poem, 410. 
Dorchester Heights seized by the British, 

257 ; fortified by the Americans, 261 ; 



a storm prevents a British attack on, 
262 ; view from, 350. 

Dudley, Deputy-Governor, letter to the 
Countess of Lincoln, 62 ; angry with 
Winthrop, 65. 

Dudley, Joseph, president of the provi- 
sional government, 146 ; an unpopular 
governor, 174. 

Duel, first in Boston, 128, 160. 

Dyer, Mary, story of, 103. 



East Indian emancipation, 399. 

Easty, Mary, executed as a witch, 123. 

Eaton, Mr. Nathaniel, first master of 
Harvard College, 384. 

" Eberhard," poem, 340. 

Edwards, Jonathan, in New England, 
190. 

Elm, the Old or Great, on the Common, 
103, 124 ; Quaker graves near, 104 ; in- 
scription on the gate of the enclosure, 
127 ; Indians executed on, 128. 

Elm, the Washington, on Cambridge 
Green, 257. 

Emerson, Ralph Waldo, 439; a literary 
recluse, 440; his poem, "Brahma," 
447 ; alone survives of the Concord au- 
thors, 451. 

Emigrants, dispersion of the, 62. 

Endicott, John, settles at Salem, 50; gov- 
ernor, 92 ; cuts red cross from English 
flag, 95 ; opposition to Quakers, 95. 

England, dark times in, 47. 

English laws of trade resisted, 142. 

Episcopal Church, origin of its existence 
in Boston, 145. 

Eric, the Red, in Greenland, 360. 

Estaing, Count d', at Madam Hancock's 
reception, 230 ; entertains Boston ladies 
on ship-board, 233. 

Esquimaux, called Skraellingar, by the 
Scandinavians, 362. 

Eutaw, the flag of, in Boston Music Hall, 
336- 

Evangeline, story of, related to Long- 
fellow by Hawthorne, 405. 

Everett, Edward, and others restored 
chapel at St. Botolph's Church, 36. 

Everett, Edward, 391. 

"Excelsior," Longfellow's poem, in- 
spired by a letter from Charles Sum- 
ner, 404. 



Family, the lost, 71. 

Faneui!, Andrew, mansion of, 193. 

Faneuil Hall, 194. 

Faneuil, Peter, 194. 

" Fanny Fern," grave of, 463. 

Federal Street Church, 240. 

Feather Store, the old, 137. 

Fields, James T., 415; his first poem, 
416; an example to youth, 417; his 
poem, "A Protest," 417; his grave, 
471. 



Index. 



477 



Field of Manoah, or Strangers' Burying- 

ground at Forest Hills Cemetery, 472. 
Fire in Boston in 1679, 137 ; the great one 

of November, 1872, 328. 
First Brick Church, 395. 
First Church, the, 65, 240. 
Food scarce in Boston, 258. 
" Footsteps of Angels," origin of the 

poem, 403. 
Forest Hills Cemetery, 471. 
Fort Independence, 354. 
Fort Sumter, fall of, 317. 
Franklin, Benjamin, his birthplace, 177; 

story of his early struggle, 181 ; 390, 391. 
Frankland's Palace, 197. 
Frog Pond, the, 127. 
Fugitive Slave Law, 314. 
Fuller, Margaret (Countess Ossoli), 448 ; 

her tragic death, 450 ; monument to, 456. 



Gallows erected, 132. 

Gardner, Francis, Master of the Latin 
School, 379. 

Garret, Richard, and others lost, 71. 

Garrison, William Lloyd, in Baltimore, 
309; mobbed in Boston, 310; visit to 
Whittier, 428. 

General Court to be held in Boston, 65 ; 
members of the, elected by the people, 
141 ; the governing power, 145. 

George II., bells of Boston tolled at his 
death, 206. 

George III., the sad king, 266; insanity 
of, 267 ; kindness to the poor, 272; fond 
of children, 272 ; at death-bed of his 
daughter, 275; blindness of, 275 ; death, 
276 ; popularity, 276. 

Goodwin, John, children of bewitched, 
xi6. 

Gould, Benj. Apthorp, Master of the Latin 
School, 378. 

Governors, the democratic, under the 
charter, 169. 

Governors, the eleven royal, 169. 

Governor's Island once called Governor's 
Garden, 354. 

Granary Burying-ground, 160. 

Grapes found by the Northmen in Massa- 
chusetts, 361. 

Greenland, Northmen in, 360. 

Groton, England, birthplace of John 
Winthrop, 57. 

Gunpowder, three tons sent to Washing- 
ton from Rhode Island, 258. 

Gyanough, the courteous sachem, 76. 



Hale, Sir Thomas, the adventurer, 156. 

Hancock's, Dorothy, reception, 230. 

Hancock, John, 206; marries Dorothy 
Quincy, 225; at Lexington on the 
morning of the fight, 226 ; President of 
the Continental Congress, 229; Gov- 
ernor of Massachusetts, 230, 293. 

Hancock, Thomas, 206. 



" Hanging of the Crane," history of the 

poem, 404. 
Harvard College, 384. 
Harvard, John, bequest of, 385. 
Harvard Memorial Hall, 353. 
Haverhill, Washington's praise of, 421. 
Hawthorne, Nathaniel, Longfellow's poem 

to, 437 ; 442 ; his death and burial, 443, 

444. 
Hayslop, Mr., the pedagogue, 369. 
Hiawatha, story of, related to Schoolcraft 

by an Onondaga chief, 405. 
Hollis Street Church, 283 ; first pastor, 

Mather Byles, 287. 
Holmes House, Washington's first head- 
quarters, 257; "Old Ironsides," writ 

ten in, 257. 
Holmes, Oliver Wendell, 410. 
Hooker, Rev. Thomas, lines to, by John 

Cotton, 389. 
Hopkins, Matthew, witch-finder general, 

no; his methods of torture, in ; his 

death, 112. 
House, W T m. Blackstone's, the first built 

in Boston, 39. 
Houses demolished for fuel, 258. 
Howe, General, at Bunker Hill, 244 ; 

evacuates Boston, 262. 
i Howe, Mrs. Julia Ward, 414. 
Howells, W. D., 409, 410. 
Hunnevvell's Gardens, 349. 
Husking Frolic, an old-time, 433. 
Hutchinson, Anne, banished, 87. 



Iceland settled by Northmen, 360. 

Ikanho, or Ykanho, ancient name of Bos- 
ton, j6, 32. 

Increase of the early settlements, 66. 

Independence declared, 293. 

Indian a faithful, 72. 

Indians friendly to the settlements on the 
Charles River, 43 ; kidnapped, 75 ; 
many noted, brought to Boston for ex- 
ecution, 128. 

Ingolf and Leif in Iceland, 360. 

Irving, Washington, friend of Allston's, 
3°5- 



Jamaica Plain, 350. 

Jethro, story of old, the Indian mission- 
ary, 128. 

John of Tynemouth, Rector of St. Bo- 
tolph, extracts from chronicles of, 20. 

Johnson, Isaac, a gentleman of wealth, 
48; selects his abode in Boston, 50; 
death, 52 ; his grave the first in King's 
Chapel Burying-ground, 52. 

Johnson, Lady Arbella, the story of, 47 ; 
guest of John Endicott, 50; her death, 
51 ; a stone church erected on her 
grave, 52. 

Jones, Margaret, the first victim of witch- 
craft in New England, 112. 

Jubilee, musical, of 1869, 327; 1872, 398. 



478 



Young Folks History of Boston. 



Kialarness — Keel Cape — Cape Cod, 

362. 
King George's War, 189. 
King, Starr, 2S3. 
King's Chapel, 50; the royal governors 

worshipped in, 177. 
King's Chapel Burying-ground, 52, 57. 



Labrador, the old Hella-land, 361. 

Lafayette visits Boston, 293 ; lays the 
corner-stone of Bunker Hill Monu- 
ment, 294. 

Lancaster, a family at, murdered by In- 
dians, 131. 

Lantern in St. Botolph's Church went out 
forever when Cotton left the town, 35. 

Latimer, George, arrested without a war- 
rant as a fugitive slave, 313. 

Latin School building, the new, 385. 

Laud, Archbishop, imposed the ritual, 
32 ; his iron rule, 47. 

Lee, General Fitz Hugh, in Boston Music 
Hall, 336. 

Leif, story of, 356. 

Leif's Booths, 361. 

Leonard, Marin, the schoolma'am, 371. 

Leverett, Frederic P., master of the Latin 
School, 379. 

Leverett, Governor John, 137. 

Lewis, minister, hung for witchcraft, 112. 

Lexington, battle of, 220. 

Liberty, spirit of, aroused, 214. 

Lincoln Cathedral, 15. 

Lincolnshire County, England, 15. 

Lisbon, earthquake at, 198. 

Longfellow, Henry W., 399 ; visited Eu- 
rope, 401 ; his study, 402 ; in retire- 
ment, 422. 

Longfellow's poems, origin of some of, 
402 ; characteristics of, 405. 

Lovell, John, master of the Latin School, 

377- 
Lowell, James Russell, 409; Elmwood, 

the home of, 407, 471. 
Lynn, 353. 



" Magnalia," stories of gross supersti- 
tion in Cotton Mather's, 115. 

Maine given to Sir Ferdinando Gorges, 
142 ; purchased by Massachusetts, 142. 

Maiden, the hills of, 349. 

" Manoah, Field of," poem, 472. 

Marblehead, 355, 435. 

Massachusetts Bay Colony, the leaders of 
came from Lincolnshire, England, 15. 

Massachusetts Institute of Technology, 

335- 

Massachusetts Sixth Regiment attacked 
in Baltimore, 317. 

Mastodon gigantetts, skeleton of in the 
Warren Museum, 342; discovery of 
the skeleton, 344. 

Mather, Cotton, and the witchcraft delu- 
sion, 116. 



Mather, Cotton, Increase, and Samuel, 
willow at tomb of, cut from tree at 
Napoleon's grave, 239. 

Mattakees, fishing huts of the, 76. 

Mayflower, the, one of Winthrop's fleet, 
49; arrives in Charlton harbor, 61. 

May-pole set up by Thomas Morton and 
cut down by Endicott, 67. 

Mechanics' Charitable Association, 393. 

Medford, first settlers at, 62. 

Merrimack, the, Whittier's " River of 
Song," 432. 

" Merry Monarch," Charles II. called 
the, 145. 

Merry-Mount, the revellers at, 67. 

Mickle, Samuel, the cynic, 1S1. 

Milton Lower Mills, 350. 

Monument grounds at Bunker Hill, 302. 

Moore's, Tom, waste-paper basket in 
Longfellow's study, 402. 

Morton, Thomas, the rioter, 66. 

Mount Auburn Cemetery, 353, 455 ; en- 
trance, 457; the chapel at, 461, 463; 
the sphinx, 463 ; the tower, 470. 

Muddy River lands granted for school 
purposes, 376. 

Mural inscriptions, 393. 

Museum of Fine Arts, 338. 



Nahant, 355, 

Napoleon at Rest, poem by Pierpont, 284. 

Newburgh, skeleton of mastodon found 
at, 344- 

Newbury and Newburyport in Whittier's 
verse, 435. 

Newfoundland probably discovered by 
Leif, 361. 

New Old South Church, 393. 

New York Seventh Regiment at Centen- 
nial of Bunker Hill, 335. 

Nix's Mate, story of, 151. 

Nonconformity could not be overlooked, 
32. 

Non-representation in parliament an ar- 
gument of the magistrates, 142. 

Nook's Hi'l fortified, 265. 

Normandy subjected by the Northmen, 

359- 
Northmen, expeditions of the, 359. 
North Meeting-house, signal lanterns in 

steeple, 219. 
Nova Scotia discovered by Leif, 361. 



" O country fair," poem, 347. 

Old Brick Church, the, 393. 

Old Goody Glover, story of, 116. 

Old Manse, the, 442, 443. 

Old North Church, see Christ Church. 

Old South Church stands in Winthrop's 

garden, 58 ; the church of the people, 

189, 240. 
" Old South stands, The," poem, 331. 
Oliver, General H. K., on the early 

schools of Boston, 369. 



Index. 



479 



Ossoli, Countess, see Margaret Fuller. 
Otis's, Hanison Gray, anecdote of Mas- 
ter Lovell, 378. 
Otis, James, 205, 

Palfrey, Peter, one of the first settlers 

of Salem, 50. 
Palmer's, Rev. Rav, memories of Bunker 

Hill, 296. 
Parker, Theodore, 314, 317. 
Peace declared, 293. 
" Peace Jubilee " of 1S69, 327. 
People independent under the charter, 

141 • 

Phillips, Samuel, the duelist, 160. 

Phips, Sir William, governor, 146 ; the 
story of Sir William and his great good 
fortune, 170. 

Pierpont, John, 283; poem at laying cor- 
ner-stone of Bunker Hill Monument, 
291 ; pastor and poet, 391 ; original 
hymn at dedication of Mount Auburn, 
455 '• monument of, 469. 

"Pilgrims, The," motto from Longfellow, 

.55-. . „ . 

Pitcairn, Major, interred in Christ 

Church, 236. 
Pormort (Portmorte), Philemon, the first 

" schulemaster ' of Boston, 376, 380. 
Prayer, Thomas Prince's, 190. 
Prescott, General, leads the farmer soldiers 

to Charlestown, 243. 
President's call on Governor Andrew for 

militia, 317. 
Primer, the New England, 372. 
Prospect Hill fortified, 257. 
" Protest, A," poem by James T. Fields, 

417. 
Province House, the, 174. 
Provincial Congress organized, 216. 
Provincials, the, rally at Concord, 221. 
Provisional government for the colony, 

146. 
"Psalm of Life," anecdote of the poem, 

4p3- 
Puritans, Macaulay on the, 45. 
Putnam, General, at Bunker Hill, 247. 



Quaker books burned, 95. 

Quaker graves near the Old Elm, 104. 

Quakers, opposition to, 95 ; whipped, 99 ; 

law for capital punishment of, repealed, 

100. 
Quincy's, Dorothy, wedding, the story of, 

225 ; reception of the French officers, 

230. 
Quincy, President, quotation from, 37. 



Rain brought by the bones of St. Bo- 

tolph, 19. 
Randolph, Edward, " the evil genius of 

New England," 142. 
Rawson's Lane, now Bromneld Street, 155. 



Rawson, Rebecca, story of, 155 ; lost at 

Port Royal, Jamaica, 159. 
Red-coats in Boston, 216. 
Relic, a gigantic, 341. 
"Resignation," motto from Longfellow's 

poem on, 453. 
Revere' s, Paul, ride, 219. 
Roxbury, first settlers at, 62. 



Sts. Adulph and Botolph, educated in 

Belgic France, 20 
St. Adulph, governs church of Maestricht 
in Belgium, 20; his body moved, 24. 

St. Botolph's Church, 31 ; the tower a 
lighthouse, 32. 

St. Botolph, the good abbot, 16; founder 
of Old Boston, 19 ; his bones influence 
the rain, 19; incidents in life of, 20; 
puts demons to flight, 23 ; death, 23; 
miracles performed at his tomb, 24. 

St. Edmond's Monastery, Bury, Eng- 
land, 19. 

St. Ethelwold transfers the L>odies of 
saints, 24. 

Salaries paid the governors, 174. 

Salem, first settlers in, 50 ; 355. 

Salem Street, ancient and modern, 234. 

Saltonstall, Sir Richard, 49. 

"School Committee," the, 373. 

Schoolhouse, the first, 3S0 ; called the 
Centre, and afterwards the Latin, 383. 

School Punishments, 370. 

Schools, the old Boston, 369; influence of 
Boston, 385. 

Second Church, 393. 

Shawmut, old name of Boston, 40. 

Shenhan, John, a poem, 161. 

Sickness among settlers at Salem and 
Charlestown, 40. 

Slaves and slave-pens, 309. 

Soldiers' and Sailors' Monument, 319; 
dedication of, 337 : description, 337. 

South Carolina regiment at Bunker Hill 
centennial, 335, 336. 

Southern regiments, reception of at the 
Bunker Hill centennial, 335. 

Sparks, fared, grave of, 471. 

Sphinx, the, at Mount Auburn, 463. 

Sprague, Charles, the poet-banker, 392. 

Spring Lane, why so named, 58. 

Springs of pure water, 39 ; led to the set- 
tlement of Boston, 40. 

Spurzheim, Gaspard, his brain, heart, and 
skull in the Warren Museum, 342, 459. 

Stamp Act, passed in 1765,205; effect of, 
209 ; repealed, 209. 

Standish, Miles, sent to arrest Thomas 
Morton at Merry-Mount, 67. 

Steamers, excursion, 354. 

Stories, fireside, 151. 

Story Statue, the, at Mount Auburn, 462. 

Stranger's Burying-ground, 472. 

Sturge, Joseph, the reformer, 431. 

Suburbs of Boston, 349 ; gray and vener- 
able, 354. 



480 



Young Folks History of Boston. 



Sumner, Charles, on the Fugitive Slave 
law, 314; grave of, 464 ; his sarcopha- 
gus, 465. 

Surriage, Agnes, the tavern maid of Mar- 
blehead, 197. 



" Tales of the Wayside Inn," how sug- 
gested, 405. 

Tea, tax imposed on, 213 ; destruction of, 
216. 

" Ten Hills," Winthrop's farm, 72. 

Thanksgiving, first day of, 61. 

Thompson, Pishey, his " History and An- 
tiquities of Boston" (England), 20. 

Thoreau, Henry D., 444 ; friendship with 
animals and birds, 444 ; a cynic, 445 ; 
his death, 445 ; his poems, 447. 

Thoreau's hut, 444. 

Thorwald, story of, 359, 362. 

Tileston's, Madame, school, 371. 

"Tom of Lincoln," the old bell, 15. 

Tories, effigies of hanged, 132. 

Treasures sunken in the Spanish main, 173. 

Tremont Street, follows the windings of 
William Blackstone's cow, 43. 

Trimountain, early name of Boston, 40. 

Trinity Church, 338. 

Troops, British, stationed on the Com- 
mon, 214; start for Concord, 220; re- 
treat to Boston, 222. 

Trowbridge, J. T., 409, 410. 

"Two Brothers," stones marking bounds 
of Winthrop's and Dudley's lands, 66. 



Vane, Henry, arrives in Boston, 85 ; a 
leader in England, 87 ; jealous of Crom- 
well, 87 ; executed, 88. 

Vassal family, tomb and tablet, 304 ; family 
mansion, Longfellow's residence, 400. 

Virginia regiment at Bunker Hill centen- 
nial, 335- 



Walden, Lake, 439. 

Waltham, river excursions from, 349. 

Wampanoags, favorite resort of, 79. 

War, the civil, begun, 317. 

Ware, Henry, Jr., 393; his "Ursa Ma- 
jor," 394 ; his antislavery ideas, 398 ; 
his last poem, 399. 

Warren, Dr. John Collins, 341. 

Warren, General Joseph, 206 ; sends out 
Paul Revere, 219 ; death of, 248 ; statue 
of, 303 ; now buried at Forest Hills,303. 



Warren Museum, 341. • 

Washington, George, first monument and 
bust of, 236 ; appointed commander-in- 
chief, 253 ; arrival at Cambridge, 253 ; 
took command of the army, 257 ; head- 
quarters, 257 ; elected president, 293 ; 
visits Boston, 293. 

Washington Street, follows the windings 
of William Blackstone's cow, 43. 

Water supply of Boston, 327. 

Watertown, first settlers at, 62. 

" We are One," poem by Washington 
Allston, 29. 

Webster, Daniel, oration of at Bunker 
Hill, 295, 300. 

Welleslev College, 349. 

Whitefield, George, in Boston, 193 ; tomb 
of at Newburyport, 435. 

Whittier, John G, 421 ; his love of liber- 
ty, 422 ; the poet of old Essex County, 
423 ; energy of character, 424 ; his boy- 
hood, 428 ; antislavery odes, 429 ; his 
home, 430. 

Whittier's poetry, associations of, 421. 

Williams, Roger, comes to Boston, 88; 
banished for his opinions, 92. 

Wilson, John, pastor of the First Church, 
65. 

Wineland, 362. 

Winslow, Edward, searches for a lost boy, 
76. 

Winter Hill fortified, 257. 

Winthrop, Henry, drowned at Salem, 61. 

Winthrop, John, decides to leave Eng- 
land, 47 ; carries the king's charter, 49 ; 
some incidents of his life, 57; extracts 
from his journal, 61 ; fording a stream, 
67; visits Plymouth, 68; lost for one 
night, 72 ; death of, 92. 

Winthrop statue in Scollay Square, 61. 

Witchcraft, account of the Salem, 109. 

Witches, belief in, in England and Scot- 
land, 109; methods of discovering, no; 
in the Hebrew nations, 124. 

Wollaston, Captain, settles a company at 
Mount Wollaston, now Braintree, 66. 

Woodbridge, Benjamin, killed in a duel, 
160. 

" Wreck of the Hesperus," origin of the 
poem, 404. 

Wright's Tavern, 451. 



Ykanho, St. Botolph's monastery at, de- 
stroyed, 23. 



Cambridge : Printed by John Wilson & Son. 



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